Forward into Dark Eternity
by Raven Sinead
Summary: A sequel to my fic "This Deep, Heretical Truth", and its predecessors. The time has come to end the Blight, to face the Archdemon in all its fury. Life, death, and love hang in the balance. What will the outcome be? F!Cousland/Leliana pairing. POV switch each chapter. Dialogue will be all original. Story Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I, as the author, state that I own nothing. All characters and the world belong to Bioware, and no monetary profit is garnered from this story.**

* * *

**Salem Cousland**

"You should eat something."

I glanced up, looking at the wary smile on my brother's face as he handed me a plate.

"Thank you." I gazed into the courtyard of Redcliffe Castle, watching men and women scurry about, practice at arms, or load supplies. Rhythmic clanging echoed from the smithies as swords were forged and armor fitted. Thick, choking smoke clung to the still air, reminding me of what I knew all too well.

_Death is coming. On wings of fire and the cries of the innocent…our fate is fast approaching. _

"You seem troubled, Salem." Fergus said, relaxing against the parapet, keeping his eyes on me, away from the bustle and the clamor. "Since we arrived you have said less than two sentences joined together."

"I have a great deal weighing on my mind." I repeated the answer that had become rote, that dissuaded worried gazes or anxious inquires.

"You are not alone in that." Fergus glared at me until I began to eat. "I have questions for you as well, sister."

_Questions I do not wish to answer_, I thought, dreading this moment. I had prayed that time would be too scarce to…dredge up past wounds. _But he is my brother. He deserves to know…_

"Ask of me anything." I offered.

_I give you that permission…though the rest of this damned world seems to believe that it has the same rights. Ask of me anything, tax me in blood, shield them from darkness...I am not made of earth and steel. My heartbeat is not the steady cadence of war drums. I am as human as they…equally flawed, equally weary, equally frightened and weak. _

Fergus sighed, and my shoulders knotted.

_Not this, dear Maker. Any questions but these…_

"Salem," he kept his voice low, restrained, taut with emotions that were not permitted nobles and warriors, "my…my wife…my child…how?"

Bile rose in my throat as I remembered Howe's sick description of how he had mutilated my nephew and defiled my brother's wife. I schooled my face into a mask and molded my voice into a lie. _Something he will believe. Something he will cling to. _

"It was quick." I whispered, gazing into the setting sun, wishing it would pierce through my eyes and erase my memories. "Painless. Howe gave his orders…execute, do not torture."

_This is my gift to you, Fergus. Peace. Let me alleviate your guilt with this lie…the only lie I shall ever tell you. I swear it. You cannot hammer recriminations into your spirit, for vengeance has already been taken. The road of our dark past has nothing for you. Look to your future, my brother…as I look to mine, grim though it may be. _

"The bodies were burned. Mother and Father. Orianna and…Oren." Fergus replied, tone dead. "My men and I were ambushed as we were leaving to join King Cailan at Ostagar. Howe's soldiers," he snorted, "cheap weapons, substandard armor…they quickly lost. One of them told me what had happened at Highever and…I lost my mind, Salem."

"How so?" I finished the food my brother had brought to me and set the plate aside on the ramparts.

"I did not join the armies at Ostagar. Forgive me, sister. Had I known you were there, had I known that you survived, I would have made all haste but…no. I abandoned my king."

"What did you do?" I asked, recalling the moment I heard the news, that Fergus Cousland had been attacked, his forces massacred by darkspawn…the man himself dead.

_More of Loghain's trickery_, I thought, trying to quell my hatred for the now-dead traitor. It did not seem right to loathe one who no longer existed in this world, who could no more cause dissention and stir up strife, but I did.

"I took what was left of my armies to the surrounding villages, conscripting local militia. When that was finished we…we took back Highever. I am not proud to say that I attacked my own countrymen, Salem; it goes against every value father tried to instill in us, but we had been _wronged_. And then…to return, to find father and mother gone, my wife and," his composure cracked and he buried his head in his hands, weeping in the company of the setting sun, "…my boy…"

"I understand." I wrapped my arms around him, thankful for the lie I had told. "It is all right, Fergus. All is not as it should be, but it is well. We have one another, and I swear to you, I will end this Blight and give you the chance to start your life afresh. Keep faith."

"Keep faith." Fergus muttered, drawing out of the embrace. "Can you tell me how, Salem? I look at you…your face, your hands…scars are there when before there were none. Your companions told me fantastic stories of ogres and dragons, the terrors of the Deep Roads. How is it that you are standing in front of me, keeping _faith_?"

"I have those to lift me when I cannot drag myself from the ground." I smiled, missing the comfort of Leliana at my side.

As soon as I had recovered from the Landsmeet, it had been such a flurry of planning and conferences, training and briefings, poring over maps late into the evening, eating, drinking, breathing strategy…I had neglected her.

_Something that must soon be remedied. _

"My eyes may never have been as keen as yours, sister, but I did see the conspicuous absence of your signet ring." Fergus smiled, falling into old mannerisms, teasing me.

"And I am certain your ancient, age-clouded eyes managed to see the hand it now resides on?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow, a skill of my mother's that Fergus had never perfected.

"I _did_." he inclined his head in affirmation. "Do you mean to tell me I shall _never_ be an uncle?"

I stared at him, stone-faced. Our eyes locked. On cue, we began laughing until we felt our sides would split.

"Unfair!" I gasped. "How…how _dare_ you!?"

Fergus placed his hand on his chest and strutted around, the perfect image of our maternal grandmother. "A noble marriage with no _progeny_?" he squawked in a high falsetto and I collapsed to my knees, laughing so that I cried. "This is simply _unconscionable!_"

"Fergus!" I begged, holding my ribs. "Stop! For the love of the Maker, _stop_!"

My brother chuckled and helped me too my feet. After a moment, our smiles weakened then faded away completely.

"I am happy for you, Salem." he said at last. "It takes immense hope to find love in times such as these. Cherish it while you may…I know all too well…how soon such blessings can depart."

I laid my arm about his shoulders and squeezed. "All of life will resolve itself, eventually. Now, brother, if I may, I have a question for you."

"Ask it." he smiled and the moon began to rise, bathing the earth in a gentle glow.

"Did…did father ever speak to you of his aversion to healing magic?" I inquired.

Fergus nodded. "Yes, he did. But only when Oren was born." his voice grew bitter. "Apparently it is our family's dark, well-hidden secret."

"Do go on."

"Well," he cleared his throat, trying to think on happier times, "in ages past…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Leliana**

I stood outside the smithy, listening to the rhythmic ringing of steel forging steel. Under my breath, I hummed an old tune, missing the open sky, the warm, welcoming fire, and my lute.

_Yet again, I have set aside music for weapons. How I wish for the instruments in my hand to be those that bring beauty, not those that bring death. Soon, this chapter in my life will be ended…how I wish it were not so. _

I watched the craftsmen work the metal I had given them, losing sight of my surroundings as I gazed into the bed of ruby coals.

_I never told her…I suppose one could call it a lie. A lie of omission. I did not wish her to know how…how my vision ended. _I gnawed at my fingernails, an old habit from the days before I met Marjolaine. Before I had learned that my hands were gifted in darker arts; before my voice had been manipulated into a tool of destruction. Before my beauty became my prized possession. Before every last vestige of innocence had been corrupted.

_I never told her that the vision ends in darkness…with her body broken on the stones of Denerim, a river of sacrificial blood pouring from the hole in her heart. I did not speak of it, even as we grew closer…no…__**because**__ we grew closer. Because I selfishly desired to hold her hand in mine for as long as we were allowed. And now, the end is upon us._

I gazed to the stars above, the eyes of the Maker as he stared down at his children the world over. As painful as it was, as devastating and powerful, I allowed my mind to tell me the truth.

_ I was prepared for her death before I set eyes on her. I had already felt her cold hand in mine, heard my voice whispering…just terror…no name. I never imagined that I would grow to love her. I thought I would see her through this mission, guide her into eternity with a merciful, friendly hand. Never did I think that I would lose my heart. Never did I believe that she would be willing to take such a defiled thing in her hands and…__**cherish **__it._

"I do not want this." I prayed, letting a shroud of worry and doom overtake my spirit. "Maker, please…can you not alter the future? Can you rescind this vision you have given me? I…I do not wish to heed it any longer, for its prophecy will be my undoing. I am more than merely your servant in this…please."

"No no no." an Antivan accent jolted me from my thoughts and I gazed into Zevran's smile. "Such a pretty face should not look so vexed, yes?"

I gave the assassin a weak smile, uncertain if I was happy for his interruption. "Surely, at the end of times, a slight vexation could not go amiss, no matter the beauty of the face?"

"Ah, Leliana." he chided me, teasing, "What good will gloom do for us now? The end is nigh, so _celebrate_. Find your warden, take her in your arms, and _live_…lest I do that bit of living for you."

I chuckled at his salacious jest and turned my attention back to the forges. "Salem has far too much on her mind for my interruptions." I lied to myself, knowing that my heart desired nothing more than to be at her side.

_But distance is best. If I can sever myself…if I can force myself not to cling to her, then I will continue breathing when her heart stops. In my vision, I lived. How brutally __**unfair**__ is that, dear Maker? You would let an impure heart, a criminal, a murderer, walk free and take the life of one who has naught but good in them. _

"Salem is begging for your…interruptions." the elf tossed another innuendo at me and I glowered. "Relax, Leliana," he soothed, placing his skilled hands on my shoulders, rubbing them to alleviate the knotted muscle. "There is darkness upon everyone's countenance. Wring some joy from tribulation while you may."

_Joy is sooner ended than embraced_, I thought of an old Orlesian proverb and it embittered me. _I do not want to think of joy. I have known it. It is her lips upon my skin, her whispers in the dark, the deathly glow of her eyes as she faces down injustice. She is the only joy I have ever known. _

"Your hooded gaze invites the reaper, you know." Zevran finished his massage and moved in front of my face. "It is only mirth in the face of terror that drives death away. You should not be here, songbird. Your warden…"

"My warden is soon to go to her death." I hissed, allowing my fear to be spoken to the night air, to the elf who had been sent to take Salem's life. The man who had become our friend.

"Salem has faced death every day." Zevran attempted consolation. "Surely now is not so different. An army pitted against an army, good against evil…"

"A human woman against an ancient god." I sighed. "It is different, Zevran. Everything is…different."

_I knew she would die, from the beginning, but I fell anyway. Foolish, __**foolish**__ heart! Now I want nothing more than to reverse time…to reverse time and live these horrifying months over and over again, simply so that the end may never come. _

"A woman against the gods." Zevran mused. "Such are the tales of legends, no? The hero and their love, marching forward into uncertainty, taking comfort from each other's embrace, defying all odds set against them…welcoming a certain charming assassin into their bed?"

He waggled his eyebrows, suggestive. I dismissed his words with a laugh.

"_That_ is what I like to see." he smiled, then sobered. "Death is on the minds of everyone in this village, in this country." he told me. "Even mine. But as for me, I am going to leave your charming company, partake of more of Eamon's wine, and find a beautiful woman with whom to comfort myself, and in turn let her be comforted by me."

I smiled at his words, his zest, his hope. "Would that it were so easy for us all."

"It could be." he offered. "But Redcliffe's forges are cold comfort. Go and find your godslayer, songbird. Write your legend together."

"I will." I lied, watching the elf rush off, wondering how many of his advances had thus far been spurned.

I turned back to the fires, to the rhythm of the hammer's bark.

_One thing you do not know about legends, Zevran_, the darkness of my thoughts returned. _They are written after the hero's death. They are written by one who remembers…perhaps even…one who was there…or, most oft the case…the one who loved them. _

_ Salem_, her name whispered through my thoughts, quickening the beat of my aching heart, _I do not wish…to write such a legend…for you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Salem**

"In ages past," Fergus began, "The Couslands were a well respected…magister family."

Shock spiraled through me and I stared at my brother, quizzical. "Magister?" I asked. "As in…Tevinter?"

"The very same." he nodded. "Unlike other Ferelden nobles, we did not find our way here from Orlais."

"That much I did know," I replied. "But in all my life I never imagined…Tevinter magisters? If the Landsmeet caught knowledge of this…"

"Title stripped, lands foreclosed." Fergus finished my thoughts. "Possible arrest by templars. It would be a terrible eventuality."

_For it seems we must always pay for our ancestor's sins. Maker's breath…why did my father never trust me with this? _

"Fergus…why?" I asked, hoping that my brother could once more understand what I did not voice.

"Tradition." my brother offered me a consoling smile. "Father told me as much. Our family history is only relayed at the birth of a child, so that when questions arise, they are able to be answered. He would have told you, had you ever settled down and born him grandchildren."

_We both know I had no dreams of such things, dear brother. I am, after all, the child born for mother's sorrow, and you for her joy. And now, even were I to love a man, so much of my body has been damaged. I doubt I could even carry a child full term, and even if I could, I would not wish to pass on this tainted blood. Why damn an innocent to death before they are even born?_

"Settle down?" I grinned. "Perish the thought."

"Why do you think I am telling you now?" Fergus posed a question that needed no answer. "Having witnessed you, and your betrothed, it would be cruel not to tell you. I…I can only imagine how difficult this road has been for you, Salem."

"All I desire is an explanation as to why being healed is more torturous than having a sword plunged through my skin."

Fergus winced at the thought, his eyes fading into a useless worry as he realized that he had nearly lost me…more times than he could even comprehend.

"I was…approaching that subject." he tossed me a sly smile and I raised my hands, permitting him to continue. "Anyhow, a young Tevinter magister took a woman to wife. She became pregnant with their first child."

"This tale is interminable." I groused.

"Maker's breath, sister!" Fergus exclaimed. "I do not recall you being this impatient."

"This…my time," I stumbled over an explanation, "has become quite precious to me of late. I apologize, Fergus. Please, continue unhindered."

"_Thank_ you." he stressed, grinning like a fool. "Anyhow, our ancestor, whose, before you interrupt me to inquire, name has been lost to history, conceived a child. But when the babe was born, the birth was difficult. His wife gave him a son, but the healers informed him that the woman's life was fading; that there was no magical remedy, no cure."

"That is common." I could not restrain myself. "Unfortunate, but common."

"It is." Fergus agreed. "But not in this case. The Cousland magister loved his wife beyond sanity, beyond any shade of reason. So he walked into the Fade and sought out the one thing that could restore his wife to him."

I felt blood drain from my face as I realized where this tale journeyed. Dark places. Places I had been to before, that set a chill in my blood and hazed my thoughts with pain.

"Go on." I spoke, hoarse.

"He…he found a desire demon and made a contract. Again, no one remembers the exact contract made, only that his wife survive, in return for payment. A payment that was never made."

"Cousland possessed the Tevinter arrogance." I muttered, feeling shame, for the first time, at the thought of my heritage. "The same arrogance that created the darkspawn. So," I glanced at my brother's raised eyebrows, "the contract was broken. And the punishment was?"

"The harshest ever dealt to a magister family." Fergus answered. "The demon stripped Cousland of their magic, declaring that they would never know its power, and that they would suffer from its touch, no matter its intent. Apparently the curse has waned…I know I have dreams, but…"

"As do I." _terrible, dark, disturbing dreams. _"So that is the sum of it?"

_That is why I must scream out in agony as the Maker's gifts are used? That is why I dread having my own life restored? Because a man loved…because an __**arrogant**__ man wished to defy the gods? A man who gave me my blood, who gave my family its lineage…a fool. But faced with losing Leliana,_ I challenged my convictions, my thoughts, _I must confess that I might do the same. _

"I see." I sighed. "And this is where the vaunted Cousland honor was born? Why we strive and fight to pay all of our debts, why we have never kept another enslaved?"

"Though I never saw it in that light, you could speak true." Fergus pondered my words. "The story, as father told it, was that Cousland was exiled from Tevinter afterwards. Bloody magisters…as long as debts to demons are paid, all is well."

"I am certain that whoever he was…he knew the cost." I whispered.

"There is no victory in a deal with demons." Fergus spat, his disdain for magic clear in his tone. "No triumph. He would have damned our family in one manner or another."

"Yes." I mused, staring at the moon. "And, I suppose, we should be grateful. Magic is…in these times…a deadly gift. I know I would not desire to live in a Circle, confined and cloistered and hidden from the world. Ferelden has one of the more loosely governed circles in Thedas, and still the mages are pariah."

"I, for one, desire no more temptation than is already present." Fergus' lips turned downward as he restrained more powerful emotions. "Were I a mage, I would have called to me demons of desire and vengeance, brought my wife and son back from the dead, destroyed Howe and Amaranthine, and paid whatever price the demons demanded…_gladly_."

"I understand." I commiserated with my brother, setting my hand on his shoulder.

I would not tell him; he had no need of knowing that I had stood in the Fade, face to face with a demon, hovering over the edge of surrender.

_At that time, I thought I would give anything to have my sight returned to me. But I would never, __**never**__ take that final step into oblivion. Even though the blighted demon made me watch my lover die. Even though they offered to give me that which I most desired. Especially not now, not now when I realize that the echoes of actions taken impact those ages away. But I harbor no anger towards this nameless ancestor, whoever he might have been. He took desperate action for love. I have no right to accuse the dead._

"I am certain you do." Fergus smiled, sad, at the moon. "You loved them too. But that is the tale of Cousland's curse, and we must bear it, for good or ill."

"It is not so terrible." I lied, wishing to spare him the knowledge of my suffering. "Thank you…for telling me."

"I wish it were a story of nobility and honor…that which Cousland is known for in this land." Fergus apologized to me for ancient deeds done. "But it is not. It was a selfish man who thought he could tear down heaven."

_I cannot fault him. _"He was a man who loved." I comforted my brother. "That has not changed. We have always managed to cause scandal by marrying for love."

"And you are continuing a fine tradition." Fergus lifted an imaginary glass in toast. "You should not be here, Salem. You should be with her…the one you love…while you still have the time."

_Time…time that I feel creeping in my shadow, taunting me with sunrise as it grows shorter…and shorter still. There is a weight in my heart, crushing me…I do not know if I can face her, knowing that soon all of Thedas' fate will be decided…knowing that I might be going to my death. _

"I am fine here a while longer." I avoided my desires, my fears, my insecurities.

Fergus glowered at me. "Get off of this rampart this instant." he ordered as he had once done, when we were young, and I still foolish enough to obey my older brother. "There are fears around every corner, death in every thought, and you are overburdened. Breathe while you can, _love_ while you may. Please, Salem…for the sake of what we lost, take what we now have and _cherish_ it."

_Cherish it. Cherish her. Forget the past, ignore the future…and live. _

"As you say." I embraced him quickly and left, seeking out a beautiful woman who carried my ring, my promise, on her finger.

_A promise I might never be able to fulfill. A debt I might not live to repay._


	4. Chapter 4

**Leliana**

I sat in the room we had been assigned to by Eamon, glad for the window that ventilated the smoke from the torches. I unpacked my bow in the guttering light, running my hand across the wood. I sighed, regretting the gashes I saw in the surface.

_We have been through quite a lot, my friend_. I smiled and turned aside, rustling through my packs, pulling out a vial of oil and a soft cloth. _I am sorry that I began lacking in my care for you…there was simply so much else to do._

I poured oil onto the cloth and began to rub the oil into the wood of the bow, attempting to gain a few more months of life out of the abused weapon. I studied my bow, the rich hues of the wood, the marks and scars in it, each with their own story.

_Maker…is it wrong that I can look at this instrument of death, this weapon that I never wanted, and feel sorrow. Not sorrow from the wielding of it, but sorrow in the knowledge that __**this**__ bow will outlive the woman I love. For a new god of mercy, you are entirely too cruel. Why did you burden me with this vision if you did not give me the power to change it?_

"How is she?" a question echoed over stone and I nearly dropped my bow. "Forgive me." Salem sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the bed, which I had made my perch. "I did not mean to startle you."

I turned my eyes away from her, attempting to quell the joyous thrumming of blood through my veins. _I must not…give into this emotion. It will be easier, easier to accept this devastating eventuality if I can simply…resist. Salem…I feel as though I have not gazed upon you in years. You enter our bed after I have already succumbed to slumber; you leave it before the break of dawn. _

"She has been through hell." I answered the question, knowing that I spoke of more than my weapon. "But will hold true…at least until after the final battle."

Salem nodded and stared off into the distance, looking much as she had when she was blind. She leaned over and rested her head against my thigh and I winced at the touch, even though I craved her nearness, her security, the indomitable strength that defined her being.

"You are not simply speaking of your bow, are you?" she asked, tearing through my illusions as she had ever done, piercing straight to the core of me.

_As much as I tried to hide, as much as I simply wished to be the lay sister of the Chantry, you reached past that. You made me reveal the Nightingale, her flaws, her strength, her pain and torment. You are the first person who ever allowed me to be simply…Leliana. I do not know if I will ever be able to thank you enough…or forgive you._

"I am not." I admitted, letting my hair shield my face, loathing the way my skin burned where hers pressed against it.

"Tell me your fears, dear heart." she whispered. "I am afraid I have been remiss. I have stayed away from you too long."

_And I have also avoided you_. "Do not apologize." I hastened to speak, to keep my guilt from presenting itself and making my deception transparent. I could not tell her. Not now. "You have had much on your mind; wars of the mind to win, a brother with whom to reconnect."

"There will be time for that later." Salem made the same promise she always had before. And before, it had always been true.

_No. There will be no time. Not when the Archdemon begins its march. Then our time is done; that which we were will be over. _

"As you say." I muttered, returning my attention to my bow.

Salem pushed herself to her feet and stood over me. She took my chin her hand and lifted my eyes to her face. "Do not avoid me, Leliana." she said, but it was not an order. It was a prayer, a whisper, a broken voice at the edge of entire disintegration.

I made the mistake of gazing into her eyes, walls crumbling as I felt the love in them wash over me like a spring storm. Her fingers caressed my cheek and I leaned against her palm.

"I have been away too long, but I am here now." she smiled and it was all the radiance of the sun. "Tell me, Leliana."

There were tears in my eyes now, and somehow I felt shamed by them. I could not tell her the entire truth. "I am afraid…to lose you." I whispered, feeling weight lift from my chest.

"I am right here." she told me and my heart cracked.

I set my bow aside and stood, undaunted by Salem's height. "For how long?" I wanted her to lie to me with all the surety of the earth. I longed for her to convince me that a _god_ had deceived me. "Salem, for how…how long?"

"Until I am but dust in the ground." she answered. "Until every memory of my existence has been extinguished. For as long as Thedas remembers the name of Salem Cousland, they will know that my heart was carried within the hands of the Maker's most beautiful creation. For as long as histories are written, legends told around firesides, children lulled to sleep with the tales of heroes, I. Will. Be. With. You."

_Thank you_…_for believing that love can transcend time, space, death, and the edicts of the Maker. I have said it before, and I will again, you should have been born a bard. _

Suddenly, words were not enough. Assurances were inadequate. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her, molding her body to mine. Her strong hand tangled in my hair and held me to her as I wept.

"I love you, Leliana." she whispered and I cried all the harder, ashamed of myself.

_Shame that I wished to hide from the future. Shame that I wished to break free of your embrace. There is nowhere in all of Thedas that I would rather be. Nowhere. Not even at the Maker's side. _

"I love you." I hugged her tighter against me. "Salem, I am…"

"Here. In this moment. With me. Do not borrow trouble from tomorrow, for both of our sakes." she pressed her lips to my forehead.

Unsatisfied, I lifted my head and caught her lips with my own, pouring my anguish, my sorrow, my secrets into her soul, drinking in her promises, her acceptance, her love. For the first time, I let her be strong for both of us and felt no shame. For that moment, I _believed_ that Salem could defy destiny.

_You have faced down dragons and demons and abominations, my warden. What is an Archdemon but another foe to slay? We will come through this trial as we have every one set before us. Victorious…and together…and alive. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Salem**

_ I am afraid…to lose you._ Her words echoed in my mind even as I pressed my body closer to hers, attempting to reassure, to comfort. Never had I been surrounded by an aura of fear, the choked scream in the throats of every man, worrying that life might soon end.

_Life has never been a guarantee. I do not fear death…I do not believe I ever have. What I do fear is leaving Leliana behind, to face the world the only way she has ever known. Alone. I do not wish that fate for her. Even so, I must reconcile myself to the fact that our roles might be reversed. I might defy all odds and live…and be forced to endure her passing. _

"I have something for you." Leliana whispered, wiping tears from her eyes and extricating herself from my arms. "I had wished for there to be a proper moment of ceremony, but I feel the air aquiver all around us, trembling in the wake of something no man could control. I fear if I do not do this now, then I shall never have my chance."

"Very well." I drew back and gazed at the smile she wore. It was full of sorrow and mournful longing but also…a desperate sort of hope. Hope that the end might be dissuaded.

Leliana shielded her eyes and bit the edge of her lip. For some reason, she seemed hesitant, and I did not know why. She moved to the other side of the bed and knelt, withdrawing a box wrapped in red velvet. She set it on the bed and stepped away, drawing into herself, as though afraid.

I stared at her, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted. She glanced up at me and laughed. "Are you going to open it, love?" she asked.

"The moment you cease shaking like a leaf." I answered, hating that she seemed to be this ill at ease…about a gift.

_Have I done something wrong?_ I wondered. _Something to make her fear me? _

"I am afraid I cannot do that until I gain your approval." she answered, coy, yet still anxious. "Please, Salem."

Unable to deny her request, I moved around, gently laying aside the red velvet. I opened the box…all breath flooded out of my body and Leliana came to my side, wrapping her arm about my waist.

"Do you…like them?" she asked, keeping her eyes shielded from me.

_I know now why you hesitated. But you have no need to fear, Leliana. I am not Marjolaine. I promise, I swear, I will never use anything you have given me against you. Not words, not touch, not gifts. _

Awestruck, I remained silent, transfixed by her thoughtfulness.

Two swords lay in the box, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. They were thinner than the blades I had wielded before, but that did not matter. I lifted one of them, testing the weight. They were light, almost impossibly so, but the metal sang in my hands and through the air as I spun it.

I tested the edge of the blade with the pad of my thumb, feeling skin shear as I stroked it. I winced and placed my finger against my lips, tasting the tang of blood. Leliana laughed and removed my hand from my mouth, surveying the damage done.

"You are so heedless, my warden." she breathed against my ear. "You should keep better care of yourself."

"Leliana…how?" I asked, mystified. "This is fine quality steel, folded to an impossible strength. Where…where did you come by them?"

"And this is where I hope you will forgive me." she shielded her face with her hair. "I…absconded with Loghain's blade after your duel. You were unconscious and I felt that he did not deserve the honor of having it buried with him…that perhaps some redemption for him could be gained in having his sword once more in Ferelden's service…silly thoughts, I know. Regardless, I asked that Levi melt it down and reforge it into a matched set of twin blades for you. Zevran sacrificed some of his Antivan leather for the hilts, which Levi forged himself…Oghren helped. Branka was of the smith caste, you know…Oghren learned a few arts of dwarven smithing that no other could know, Shale substituted knowledge where Oghren's was lacking…I fear I am rambling again…Wynne and Morrigan enspelled them; nothing will touch their surface. If the Archdemon's blood proves to be as corrosive as the dragon's, then these blades will not be eaten away."

_Heavens, hells, and angels._ I swallowed down the lump in my throat, fighting against the tears I felt creeping into my eyes. _All of them gave in some way…to create this for me. So that I could fight the Archdemon and have every chance for victory that they can afford me. There are no words in the face of this…no words at all. _

"Sten inscribed the hilts." Leliana continued. "I asked that they both have the symbol of House Cousland etched on them…but I am afraid he surprised me. It was a display of thoughtfulness that I did not expect, and I pray you do not disapprove."

I looked down at the cross guard of the first sword, smiling as I saw the rampant mabari carefully inscribed on the metal by a master's hand. I set that blade down and took up the second, noticing a different symbol.

A nightingale in flight.

The tears did fall then, streaking down my cheeks as I realized the absolute perfection of the gift I had been given. _Yes. This is beyond fitting. This is truth stamped in metal. She is my strength, my guiding light, my support in an ever morphing world. I am nothing without her. I would have died a thousand times over without her at my side. _

"I…I do not know what to say." I breathed, stunned by the magnitude of her thoughtfulness, her generosity, her intimate knowledge of my heart.

"What?" she asked, amused. "The great Salem Cousland, in tears and at a loss for words? Is this true? Do my eyes deceive me? Great Maker above, reveal to me if this is truth or vision?"

"Minx." I teased her, setting aside the gift and wrapping my arms around its giver. "I…I have never been given…_anything_ to the measure of this. I…there is no way I can thank you."

"Use them." she pressed a kiss against my lips. "Use them to bring down your enemies, to save our country, to preserve our lives…"

_…and fight for our love_. My thoughts finished the words she did not say. _And she said "save __**our**__ country". Leliana, does this mean that you have returned to the land of your birth at last; that you are willing to claim it as your own…giving up your dreams of Orlais and Val Royeaux?_

"I will." I told her, shivering as her hand wiped away my tears.

Words fell away, as they always managed to do between us. I captured her lips with my own, conveying what my words could not. My gratitude, not just for the gift she had given me, but for the gift that she _was_.

_An ever-present light in a land shrouded by darkness. A calming word in conflict, a stalwart support in trial. I have said this before and I will again, you are my __**everything**__._

Her lips were fire against mine, her hands struck sparks against my skin as they worked at the laces of my clothes. I slipped my hands under her shirt and pulled her closer to me, kneading my fingers against her skin, drawing delightful encouraging sounds from her lips against mine.

Her nails dug into my back and I gasped as my nerves fissured into spasms of bliss. I moved my hands upward, frustrated by the boundaries of the clothing between us.

"Salem," a man's voice and a knock at the door.

I growled in frustration and pulled away from Leliana, attempting to catch my breath. "What in hell do you want?" I asked.

Alistair stepped into the room, averting his eyes and lowering his head, afraid of retribution. "Riordan has asked to see us. He says it is quite urgent."

_Maker's blood-soaked breath! Does it never __**end?!**_

"I will be there shortly." I informed him, terse. "Get out."

Alistair retreated and I turned to Leliana, apologies in my gaze. "Forgive me, dear heart." I whispered, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. "I will return as soon as I may."

"I understand." she took my hand and kissed it, releasing it back to me with a soft smile. "I love you, Salem."

"You are," I looked over my shoulder as I left the room, on another mission that could not be avoided, "so beautiful."

_And you are mine. And I am filled with joy. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Leliana**

My body ached as I watched Salem walk away from me. Fire burned through my veins with no outlet and my heart felt as though it had been scorched.

_Why?_ I wondered, staring out of the window and into the sky, as though it would give me the answers I sought. _Why do interruptions come at every moment, every __**fucking**__ inopportune moment?_

I stared at the swords that I had given to Salem, tracing my fingers over Sten's beautifully engraved nightingale. I had not known how Salem would react to such a thing, that she might think it to presumptuous of me, but…

_The tears in her eyes spoke volumes, the manner in which her hands clung to me, the fervor of her kisses. And her words…Maker's breath, those beautiful, passionate words. _I wrapped my arms about myself as the fire in my body gave way to the chill that had not completely left my soul. _Where will I run when I need encouragement and she is no longer there? Whose voice will I seek out when I question a god? There is no other who could make me believe against divine will…and she must die._

I ran my fingers over Cousland's rampant mabari and let tears of my own slip from my eyes. "You will die, my love." I whispered, hearing the words echo in the hollowness of the room. "You will die and you will be buried with these blades. For a moment, a beautiful, pristine, suspended moment of grandeur, I believed. I believed that the Maker had lied…but I find now it is not so. Only with you here, at my side, can I deny the truth."

I pulled my hand away from the chill of the metal, realizing it felt too much like the cold of Salem's skin in my vision.

_Cold…breathless…lifeless. Her soulful blue eyes open, fixed upon the emergent sun, the quirk of a smile on her pale lips. Beautiful in death as she was in life. Looking into the light of the next eternity, scars erased from her eyes…free. Free from her tainted blood, from her destiny as a Grey Warden, free from nightmares. Free as she will never be, should the impossible happen and she survive. Perhaps I am too jealous. Perhaps I dream too far. Perhaps it would be better for her to walk into the Maker's grace, to look upon her father and mother and receive their joy and pride into her heart. Perhaps it would be better…for her sake. _

_ Salem…who has given so much of herself for me, deserves to walk into the eternal peace that transcends understanding. And, if legends prove true, how am I to know that our souls will not one day reunite under different names and different faces? It could happen…_

I left the warmth of the room and down the winding staircase, out into the main yard of Redcliffe Castle.

_Under a wide, forgiving sky_, I remembered my thoughts the night Salem was captured by Cauthrien and taken to Howe's dungeons. _But I cannot even cry out. I cannot even mourn the dead, for they are still living. All I can do is stand here, suspended between present and what has been prophesied, my heart splitting, body aching, spirit sundered, and soul all but crushed. All I can do is set weapons in the hand of a warrior who will use them in one, final, glorious battle. And then I shall fade…I shall fade into the black, the shadows of Thedas, never to emerge again. I will sing for coin on the street and dance with traveling minstrels. I will never raise a blade again, unless it is to my own throat when the grief becomes too much to bear, as it surely will…_

_ …as it surely will. _

"Maker, what is your purpose for me in all of this?" I prayed, disregarding the flurry all around me, the clanging from the forges, the whinnying from the stables, the gruff shouts of men in armor as troops assembled in formation. "What am I to do after this battle has ended? Will you forsake me as you have other prophets? Will you leave me alone to carve my own path in the world? Where am I to go without the one whose heart you allowed to love me?"

"Excuse me, madame." an urbane tone…no, more than that…a carefully concealed Orlesian accent, broke my concentration.

"Yes?" I turned to face a young man, dressed in unremarkable clothes. However, I could see lines that others could not, the concealed weapon's sheathes, the unmistakable bulges of hidden armor.

_He is not what he seems. _

"I am seeking Leliana, lay sister of the Lothering Chantry. I was told she might be found here."

I moved my hand behind my back, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of a dagger. Whatever his intentions were, I would not be caught off guard. "I am she."

He reached into the breast of his vest and my grip on my dagger tightened, muscles tensing, ready to strike. The young man extended a sealed parchment towards me. "I was sent by the Divine; ordered to seek you out. Her instructions were strict, to deliver this into the hands of Leliana, also known as the Nightingale. Are you, in truth, she?"

I let go of the knife, reeling with the unexpected information. _A letter? From the Divine herself? For me? What sort of new madness is this? _

"I swear it, on the Maker's grace." I answered, and the young man placed the parchment into my hands.

"Be well, madame." he spoke. "I must away."

"Godspeed." I bade the mysterious messenger, watching him mount his horse and flee through Redcliffe's gates as though he were afraid of pursuit.

I held the letter in trembling hand, tracing my name in a fine script that I had seen before…on the messages that Mother Dorothea had received during my tenure in her Chantry.

_This was handwritten by the Divine herself_, my heart began to race as I cracked the seal. I opened the letter and soaked in its contents.

* * *

_Sister Leliana,_

_ It has come to my attention that you have left the service of the Lothering Chantry, and as such are the only member of the sisters and brethren that remains alive. I have researched your history and sought truth behind the claims of treason against our Empress. Upon hearing the testimony of a young elven mage, and searching the history of your former compatriots, I have compelled Empress Celine to write you a formal pardon. You are no longer wanted by the magistrates of Orlais._

_ In light of those favors, I have a request to make of you. I am given to understand that you travel in the company of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and are assisting them against the Blight. Once this is accomplished, for good or ill, you will have within the month of the event to report to me here, in Val Royeaux. I wish to discuss with you the fate of the Lothering Chantry, and enlist the aid of your…superior and particular skill set. _

_ Go in the Maker's grace, my child, and may He bring light and good fortune upon your path. _

_ Justinia V_

_ Divine of Orlais_

* * *

I stared at the letter as though it were a venomous snake that I held in my hands. "A royal pardon?" I asked the no one that stood next to me. "I am…no longer banished?"

_I could return home_, I realized, cold shivers of disbelief washing over me. _And work in the service of the Divine as she requests…well…demands that I do. _

"Maker," I whispered yet another prayer, "is this your way of telling me that my life will continue in your service, even after Salem's has ended? Is this your way of granting me peace, assuring me that my service is not yet done, that you still have need of me, that I am not a vessel to be once used and then discarded?"

_But what if she lives…what if Salem lives and I am forced into the service of the Divine? What if we are separated by duties as Warden and…whatever the Divine wishes me to be? How…how could I endure such a cruel eventuality? Oh, how I wish for the divination of ancient gods, for histories written in blood…so that I would know them for their immutability. Instead….this….this tossing about of whim and fancy and fate. It is killing me._

_ Let the final battle come soon, dear Maker. Let the final battle come soon; let my heart be at rest. For good or ill. For good or ill. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Salem**

I followed behind Alistair, frustration crescendoing. _Every time. Every time I am torn away from her, forced into something that always promises great unpleasantness. Maker's blood-soaked breath, must she always be out of reach? Must time and chance always dictate our separation?_

"Alistair," I asked, "how bloody _important_ is this?"

"Important enough that Riordan told me to pull you away no matter what you might be doing." my fellow warden answered, blushing to the tips of his ears. "I apologize, Salem. I know your time with Leliana has been quite limited of late."

"Limited to the point of non-existence." I growled as Alistair pushed open the door leading to Riordan's room.

The Orlesian warden stood before the roaring fire, looking much better than he had in Howe's dungeons. I had avoided him, still filled with the same distaste I had felt for him at our first meeting. It was not his heritage, not his seniority, but his _arrogance_ that I despised. At every gathering of strategy, Riordan had overruled both Eamon and myself, speaking of his past trials in combat…nothing that had even come close to what Alistair and I had faced.

_The last Blight was well before your time_, my thoughts muttered, angry that I had been forced to forfeit time with my lover to listen to the words of a pompous ingrate. _You came late and were imprisoned because you were __**stupid **__enough to get caught. Why should I have to listen to what you have to say?_

"Greetings, Alistair." he spoke, nodding to us as we entered. "Salem."

"What do you want?" I asked, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms. I might have been his junior, both in age and in the hierarchy of the wardens, but, as I had told him, here, in Ferelden, my word was law.

"I wanted to know the extent of what Duncan taught you." Riordan answered, smiling in an attempt to get me to warm to him. I would not. "For things are coming quickly to a close, and there are secrets of our order which must be revealed, if they have not been already."

"What sort of secrets?" Alistair asked.

He did not harbor the same disdain for Riordan as I, but he had no great love for the man either. _As far as Alistair is concerned, the only wardens worth their salt are myself, and Duncan. The rest of them…forsook us, left us in the cold, and refused our many entreaties. We have been forced to walk this road alone, and it is only by the Maker's grace that we found ourselves surrounded by those who wished to aid us in the absence of those who call it their __**duty**__._

Riordan stared further into the fire, meditating on his next words. "Do you know what happens when an Archdemon dies?" he inquired.

Alistair and I exchanged a guilty look. No. We did not know; nor had we come across one who could inform us.

"We do not." I replied, unwilling to apologize for my ignorance.

"I thought as much." Riordan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It is so much easier when not faced with such times as these; when the young do not have to stare the cruel reality of it in the face."

"Then cease with the bandying of words and tell us." I spoke. "We have come this far; surely new information will not daunt us."

"I believe it to be quite daunting." Riordan spoke in his obnoxious, condescending manner. "Especially for one in your particular situation, Salem."

_My particular situation? What in heaven's name could he possibly mean by that? My situation is no different from Alistair's. The both of us are wardens; tied to the same fate. _

"Riordan," Alistair calmed the tensions rising, "please, just let us know. There are better things to occupy our limited time than the riddles of the wardens."

"Very well." Riordan muttered. "Damn Fereldens, always seeking a blunt truth when gentle blow would leave you less injured." he lifted his gaze and stared straight into my eyes, drawing back as he saw that death lived within them. "When an Archdemon dies, its spirit floods out of its body in an immense wave of energy. This energy seeks out the nearest vessel bearing the taint…which is always the warden who strikes the final blow."

"So…we become the Archdemon?" Alistair questioned, brows furrowing in confusion.

"No." Riordan shook his head. "The finer magics used in the Joining ritual prevent such an abomination from occurring."

_This is going to a dark place_, I realized. _This is what Duncan would have told us earlier on, so that we would refrain from entering…relationships of any kind. So that only wardens, who face whatever fate Riordan is next to disclose, would share in it. _

"Then…" my voice trembled and I felt ashamed. "…what does occur?"

"The spirit of the old god makes its home in the warden." Riordan spoke, voice heavy with a destiny choked with blood, "The magic of the Joining seals it in place…and the warden is killed, as is the essence of the Archdemon."

_**No!**_ My thoughts screamed in agony, even as I recognized an irrefutable truth. _No, Maker, no! This cannot be…I had thought death might be certain, but only from wounds sustained. Now I find it is a guarantee. What manner of cruelty exists in the world that the death of a warden is absolute?! Is it not enough that lives are taken by the arrogance of men who wished to strike down gods? Is it not enough that villages are burned, children orphaned, wives and husbands widowed? Must those who end tragedy suffer as well? Must those who take up the mantle of savior, protector…also atone for the sins of ancients? _

"It's settled then." Alistair's face set into a mask of steel. "I will strike the final blow."

"Have you lost your mind!?" I erupted, clenching my fist in order to resist the urge to strike him for his stupidity. "You are the _future king of Ferelden!_ Knowing this…there is no chance on this _earth_ that I will even let you _near_ the Archdemon!"

"I have followed you in many things, Salem." Alistair fought back…the first time he had ever disagreed with me so vehemently. "But not this. Ferelden will find another ruler. Eamon, perhaps, or your brother, Fergus. Salem…between the two of us, you have the most to lose. Let me do this, for you, for Leliana."

_Because I love you_. The words hung unsaid, heavy, in the air. I fought back tears; I would not allow Riordan to see me like this. He already thought me weak for my love of Leliana.

_I did not know_, I apologized to the woman who was not there. _Please, forgive me, dear heart, I did not know. Had I…I would not have led you on. I would have loved you from afar. This is unforgivable…how…how can I tell her? _

"Alistair, no." I fought him. "I will have none of this. There are nobles now, backing you. For you to die…Ferelden would be cast into worse turmoil than it lies in now. I cannot do that to my country, _our_ country."

"But, Lel…"

I raised a hand, cutting his words short. "The lives of thousands hinge on your wearing of the crown. My life, in the face of that, is meaningless. My love, in the face of that, is…"

"Meaningless?" Alistair scoffed. "You're a fool, too damnably altruistic for your own good. Just accept this gift, Salem. Fucking _accept_ that there are others who consider your life greater than their own, no matter the promises they have made."

"Both of you, still your tongues!" Riordan interrupted. "You both were _obviously_ taught by Duncan. So foolish and headstrong. But he was a paragon among us, and I believe that he recruited those like him. In hopes of your future, _I_ will strike the final blow against the Archdemon. Alistair will take his place as king, and you, Salem, can continue to serve the wardens."

_You will not last through the first wave_. I turned on my heel.

"Damn you to hell, Riordan." I growled, striding out of the room, away from Alistair, away from the truths of the wardens, secrets that were considered too great for the young.

My heart ached in my chest, feeling as though a knife soaked with sorrow had pierced through it. Every heartbeat pulsed acid through my veins. I felt broken inside.

_I was torn away from a moment of love…and now must confess this hideous fate. Leliana, I do not even know how to begin…I am so sorry, dear heart. Please, do not forgive me. Please hate me when I tell you, hate me and flee my side, let me go to my death without fearing for your heartbreak. And it will be my death. Riordan is not a young man…and if I must chain Alistair here in Redcliffe to preserve him, I will. It will be my hand that slays the Archdemon; that has been inevitable. And now, this also is inevitable._

_I. Am. Going. To. Die._


	8. Chapter 8

**Leliana**

I returned to my room and waited for Salem. I sat before the fire, reading the Divine's missive over and over again until the letters smeared together. It held my future, perhaps even my destiny. I would be pulled from Ferelden, the land of my birth…the land that had quickly become my home.

_Home lies within the heart_, I thought, remembering what Cecile had told me, so long ago, when I was a child in Val Royeaux. _And my heart lies with Salem. No matter where I am, be it Val Royeaux, Nevarra, Antiva, or the darkest depths of the Deep Roads, I shall never be at home without her. _

The hinges of the door screeched and I tucked the letter out of sight. There were too many thoughts swirling in our minds, chaos abundant, and I did not have the heart to overtax Salem with this newest revelation.

I turned to my warden, my heart darkening as I saw no trace of the strong, vibrant woman who had left not a candlemark ago. Her shoulders were bunched together, her hair mussed and in front of her face, shielding her eyes. The light caught her cheeks and I saw the streak of tears.

I rose from my seated position and walked to her, stopping as she extended a hand.

"No." she whispered, and her voice was broken. Gone were its rough, lyric notes, its surety and calm. "Don't…don't come near me."

"Salem." my heart quickened with concern. _Something has happened…but what?_ "Salem, what is wrong?"

"Everything." she walked to the fire and leaned against the stone, her back to me, eyes gazing into the flames that could do nothing to combat the chill that entered my veins.

"Salem…"

"You should go." she interrupted. "Return my ring and leave. No sweet farewell, no lingering kiss, just you…gone. Away from wherever I may be. Forever."

_What in __**hell**__?_ my mind splintered into a thousand shards, each one piercing through my skin and straight into my soul. _What has happened? What has changed her in so short a time? _

"Have you gone mad?" I asked, walking towards her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the contact. "Salem, please, love, you are not speaking coherently."

"I damn well am." she hissed, shrugging off my hand and walking away from me again. "Get out of here, Leliana."

"Seal your lips." I hardened my voice, unable to countenance the words coming from her mouth. "And tell me what in _hell_ you are playing at? Not days ago you asked me to be with you for eternity. This same day your lips were against mine with a passion unknown outside of legends. This same day you swore that you loved me. Now…this? Tell me what has happened, Salem, or I will curse you with my presence until you do!"

"I've cursed us both!" Salem turned to me, tears and fury in her eyes. "I…I did not intend for this, Leliana. I never meant to mislead you…never thought to give you a promise I could not fulfill." her voice cracked and she fell to her knees. "I'm sorry, dear heart. I failed you…I have failed us both. We should…should never have loved; I swear if I would have known I would never have drawn closer to you. I promise you, you _must_ believe me, please."

"Known what?" I asked, bewildered to the point of tears, but forcing myself to remain strong. I knelt beside my lover and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Salem, you can tell me anything, anything at all, and I swear, no matter its gravity or sorrow, I will not leave."

"You should." she wept, gazing into my eyes.

"I will be the judge of that." I whispered, cupping her cheek with my hand. "Tell me."

Salem took a shuddering inhale and closed her eyes, visibly centering herself. "Riordan…wished to tell Alistair and me…the warden's fate."

"And?"

"The warden who kills the Archdemon, who strikes that final, victorious blow," Salem retreated into herself, hiding from my reaction, "must forfeit their life. If they do not die, the Archdemon will simply find another host and reincarnate itself. But the magic of the Joining changes that…it kills the Archdemon completely…and with it, the warden."

_So…now you know the truth. You know what I have seen. I do not know if I feel relieved or if I should hate myself for not being the voice that told you your fate. Instead, you were forced to learn of it from a man you do not value. What a harsh blow it must have been. My warden, you have not failed me…it is I who have failed you in this. _

"Leliana," Salem took both of my hands in hers, and I flinched from their chill, "I cannot let Alistair take such a risk, and Riordan…the man is old, by the standard of the wardens. Since he is the sole warden that came to join us, I would venture to say that he has received his Calling already. He will never make it to the Archdemon, not with the foes that I have seen; not against those we yet face. Forgive me, Leliana. Forgive me for this, but I…I have no choice. It has to be me…" her eyes went distant and she sounded shocked as she spoke, "…I have to die."

I took a deep breath. "I know."

"What?" her brows furrowed and her eyes shrieked in pain. "What do you mean, you know?"

"I…I have known since the beginning." I confessed, wincing as she gripped my hands to the point of pain. "In my vision…Salem…I saw you die. In truth, I did not know it was you; for I never saw distinctive features or knew your name, but I knew that it was a warden, a woman, and…my friend. Even in the vision, I felt grief for a loss I did not, at the time, know the true magnitude of."

"Why…why did you not tell me?" she asked, confusion turning her face into that of a grief-stricken child. "Leliana…why?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat as my chest tightened and my eyes lined with tears. "Because I fell in love with you." I answered. "And I wanted to find a way to defeat destiny. You…you made me forget, Salem. You made…you _make_ me believe that my vision is a lie; that you will be standing by my side after the world ends. When you stand before me, I can believe nothing else, for you are all that is there."

"I love you," she whispered, "so much. And as much as I wish to take it back, to spare you this pain, I would not be here without you. I am so torn, Leliana…so lost and adrift and conflicted." she took a steadying inhale, dried her eyes, and looked at me. "What do _you_ wish?" she asked. "I will go forward, no matter the cost or consequence, because I must. You should not be forced to watch your vision made reality. What is your desire, Leliana?"

_A life with you. A life that we spend together, into our golden years…but that is not to be. That hope never, in truth, existed. I am nothing but a dreamer, a foolish bard enamored of legends. But you are my heart; you are my home, and I will not be orphaned again, my love. _

"My desire," I smiled for sorrow and for hope, "is to keep this ring, and its promise. My desire is to walk through hell at your side. I want the hands that guide you into death to be the ones that held you in the dark. I," my voice cracked, "I want to kiss you good-night for the final time…"

She wrapped me in her arms, holding me, protecting me. We spilled our tears together, bleeding from the wounds that would never mend.

Salem kissed me, and though she had said she would take everything back, had she known her fate, I knew that I never would.

"It is worth it." I whispered, unwilling to hide my beliefs. "It is worth it."

Her eyes ignited with the same passion that had been in them from the beginning, the same fierce love, now tempered with sorrow. She replied with her hands, stripping the walls between us, melding our bodies together, wringing pleasure from our scars…forgiving fate.

As we fell together for what I knew was the final time, I spoke my last coherent thought, pressing it against her lips like a marriage vow.

"I regret nothing."


	9. Chapter 9

**Salem**

_"Salem." an insistent voice; one that lingers and grates against my ears like an echoing gong. "Ssssssaaaaaaalemmmm."_

_ "Leave me be." I mumble, turning over in my bed. Dawn will break too soon. I do not want to face it._

_ "Salem!"_

* * *

"What!?" I opened my eyes and stared at whoever had provided my rude awakening.

"Salem, come with me." Morrigan whispered and my head cleared from shock. "I need to speak with you."

_Oh, Maker. Again? Yet another needy hand knocking at my door. I am near spent of words and promises. All I wished for was a night alone with Leliana. And yet day will break; interruptions will come. It is what is left of my limited fate. _

"'Tis urgent, warden, and of great importance. I suggest you hasten, or be worse off for your hesitation."

"Fine, fine." I waved her away and extricated myself from the bed, finding my clothes that had been scattered about the room.

Once dressed, I followed the witch out of my room and into hers. I stood there, rubbing the grit from my eyes, watching her. She moved about the room, adjusting and straightening various items…acting not at all like Morrigan.

"Speak now lest I lose my patience and leave." I warned her.

She turned to me, amber eyes dark, swimming with the arcane. "Be not so quick to threaten me, warden. An angered witch's favor is not easily regained."

_She is speaking…acting…much like she did when first we met. She has changed drastically since then. Something is amiss. But what?_

"Forgive me." I amended, watching as she settled in a shadowed corner, staring at me from underneath a wave of midnight hair.

"This is not so easy a subject to broach as I may have thought." she muttered.

"What subject?" I asked, hoping to smooth the way for her.

"I know, Salem." she slanted her eyes and the corner of her mouth lifted just enough to be menacing. "I know the warden's fate. I have known…for quite some time."

_Andtaste's ass! _I swore, clenching my hands into fists. _Has everyone known what awaits me save myself and Alistair?! First Leliana's revelation…and now this? Wynne might have known too; in the Circle one has little to do but study the histories of magic and __**surely**__ the warden's Joining would have been found there. _

I laughed, bitter. "Now it would seem my night is complete. How did you find out?"

"Flemeth's purpose." Morrigan answered, averting her gaze. "Why the batty bitch sent me with you in the first place. She _intended_ for this, Salem. I would not be surprised if she _orchestrated_ it…" her tone grew dark, "she has more knowledge than it would seem. She knew I would find her old grimoire in the mage's tower; knew it would lead me to finding out about her barbarous construction of an eternal life, and _knew_ that I would get down upon my haughty knees and beg for your assistance in _wiping her out_. All for this…all for this."

_Flemeth? She is dead. I pierced her dragon's heart with my own sword; watched her vanish into ether. There is nothing left of her and yet…the legends of the Witch of the Wilds go back further than the written histories. Could she have somehow survived death?_

"All for what, Morrigan?"

"'Tis my foolishness that brought this upon me." she sniffed and straightened. "But 'twould seem that the true treasure was not, as I thought, Flemeth's lost grimoire…but her spellbook that had been under my nose the entirety of my life. 'Twas there I found the secret that she wished me to discover."

"What secret?" I asked.

"How to avert the warden's fate." Morrigan once more turned her eyes to mine and they were filled with that emotion most foreign to her…hope. "How to cheat death. I would have worked the ritual myself, without your knowledge, had there not been a certain factor…that will require your diplomatic skills."

_A way out? A way free? But…from Flemeth. There is darkness here, on the tip of every word that promises redemption…I must know more._

"Explain. Everything."

"'Tis…'tis a ritual." Morrigan looked down at the ground. "A different manner of Joining, if you will permit me the expression."

"Speak in words, witch." I growled, tired of mages and their incessant cryptics, whether it be Morrigan's secrets or Wynne's wisdom.

"Well, if you must have truth at the edge of a sword, so be it." the witch sighed and moved in front of the fire, as though she could soak up its warmth and bravery. "Sex. With a warden, a warden that has not borne the taint for long. From our union, a child would be conceived, a child that would bear the taint of his father. When the Archdemon dies, its essence would seek out that of the child, instead of the warden, but the soul of the child, so new in its formation, would remain undamaged. The child would live, cohabiting with the soul of an old god…and the warden who struck the killing blow…would be free to live their life as they chose."

_A __**child?**_I wondered, horrorstruck by the mere thought of Morrigan as a mother. _Conceiving a tainted child so that __**I**__ might live…burdening an innocent with the ink dark soul of an ancient god? Who could countenance such a thought…who could live with themselves after allowing this to happen? _

"So you came to me…spoke to me of this, why?" I asked.

Morrigan bit her lip and sighed. "I...I..." her mouth twisted in a grimace, "'twould pain me to see you die, warden. I have become quite...not averse...to your presence in my life. Perhaps I even consider you a friend."

_Morrigan uses me as I use her_, I recalled the words I once spoke to Leliana, _a means to an end. This confession...is filled with heart, reluctant though it may be. Perhaps her venture is not far from sanity after all._

I sighed. "I'm certain Riordan would not be averse to your overtures. He is nearing the end of his life and…"

"And has borne the taint too long." Morrigan stared at the fire and I could have sworn I saw a blush in her cheeks. "It would…it would have to be Alistair. Though…'tis true that if you were a man, I would prefer this be done by you, alas…it cannot be."

_How very…disturbingly intriguing. _"You would be willing to…"

"Fornicate with the buffoon?" she asked, cocking her head like an inquisitive bird. "But of course. 'Tis required for the magic. And if it is for magic, 'tis not I who does the choosing; rather, I am forced into the situation."

"He would never agree to it." _And I would never ask him to. Maker's breath, you __**despise **__each other…and Alistair has never, well…fornicated, as you say…with anyone. This is preposterous. And possibly dark magic_. _Heavens, hells, and angels, it may even be blood magic. She reckoned it to the Joining, which is done with blood. I...I could **never** conscience that._

"You know quite well that Alistair would do anything for you." Morrigan wheedled. "You have but one chance for this, my warden. If you decline my offer, I will leave tonight, with no word to the others. If you accept, I will need your aid in persuading Alistair. It is for his life as well, for without you, his destiny ends in blood. I have foreseen it."

_I need time! Maker's fucking breath, woman! Must everything be so…so…__**absolute**__ with you? This is maddening. The chance to live_, I stared at the tantalizing thought, the hope held out to me on a silver strand. _The chance to continue my life with Leliana, to see the world rebuild itself after the Blight. No…No…I could not do this…what if this __**is**__ some sort of diabolical conspiracy between Morrigan and Flemeth. What if, even now, the witch is withholding information from me? _

_ And then there is the matter of…repercussions. I suffer **today** from the actions of an ancestor whose name has been forgotten, it was that long ago. If I make this pact, this deal with…_I looked into Morrigan's unnatural eyes, remembered the skills she bore, a magic no man had seen inside the Circle, and shivered. _…this deal with a demon…what will happen? Will the next generation live under the thrall of the man/god this union would create? Would something __**worse**__ than a Blight come about? No…No. I cannot think of what it is I most desire…and that is to tell Morrigan to wait while I go to Alistair and beg him on bended knee to do this for me. I must consider the future. I must preserve the world…now and further ahead. _

_I have to die_.

"No." I whispered, shaking as I felt hope vanish. "I…I thank you, Morrigan, but I cannot. I cannot do this to you, to Alistair…to Ferelden."

"Then consider Leliana." the witch smiled, feral, gouging her fingers into the gaping hole in my heart. "What if she knew you had the chance to live and denied it; denied a life with her, all for the sake of the nobility of a dead family. Because you, the invincible, unshakable Salem Cousland, were _afraid_. Little will be lost if you accept my offer, warden. Much will be if you decline it."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as a thousand futures played out behind my eyes. As dreams crescendoed and died. As my heart broke for the final time.

_No matter the cost,_ I thought, _I will do what must be done. Leliana…forgive me._

"Very well, witch." I walked to Morrigan, making certain that she looked into my eyes, saw the promise of death within. "I have my answer. And you may dislike what I am next to tell you…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Leliana**

_"Tell me a story." an old request, one I have heard many times before. Only now it is an older voice that speaks; a voice from my childhood…the hand that guided me to those who taught the art of song, dance, poetry. The hand that guided me out of a love she was not required to feel._

_ "Cecile?" I question, turning to her._

_ Her face is blurred; memories fade over time, faces lose their definition. But I know the voice, I know the cadence of her accent, the touch of her hand as it rests upon my shoulder. _

_"Who else would it be, Leliana? How many voices have spoken to you as strongly as my own?" she smiles, a carefully controlled measure of approval. I remember practicing, straining to earn one of her rare smiles, to sleep another night in comfort, knowing I had earned my place in her affections. _

_ "Very few." I return her smile. _

_ "Then tell me their stories; sing me their songs. Or have you lost your taste for that? I see the calluses on your hands, Leliana. The splits in your nails." she shakes her head and makes noises of disapproval between her teeth. "This is not the life I fashioned for you. Not who I taught you to be. What have you done to yourself, my girl?"_

_ "I am afraid I strayed from the path you set me on, Cecile." I hang my head, still withered by the edge of disappointment in her tone. Some habits can never be broken, so deeply are they embedded in soul and psyche._

_**What have I done? What have I done to cause her unhappiness? Does she know…does she know the life I chose in place of the one she fashioned?**_

_"I can see that, my girl. Who has done this to you? Whose weapons have damaged your lovely hands; whose orders have caused your voice to rasp with exhaustion? Why are there circles of sleepless nights below your eyes? And do not even ask me to comment on that tangled rat's nest of what once might have been hair. I raised a lady fit for Orlesian nobility. I raised a child who could break the Maker's heart with her voice. Where did she go?"_

_ "She is here still." I promise my second mother, even though I have not been able to find that child for many a year now. Marjolaine attempted to kill her, or at least to shape her in a more sadistic mold. _

_ "She is changed." Cecile's warm brown eyes darken. "There is blood on your hands, my girl. Your mother wished a better life for you. You had such promise, such potential…it is why I took you under my wing, though no blood bound us together. Why do you now spit in the face of your heritage?"_

_ "Cecile…my life is my own," I defend myself, my decisions, the roads that have brought me to this point. __**The tortures and horrors that I endured because you let me go out into the world untrained but for songs and stories. You did not raise a child…you raised a caged bird, who leapt at her first chance for freedom and found herself enslaved to a crueler mistress than the one she escaped. **_

_ "Your eyes were bright as violets once." Cecile caresses my cheek in a motherly fashion. "Full of wide inquiry and zest for life. Your mind could gather no fill of legends and of song. You wrapped yourself in books and tales of heroes. Where are you now, my girl? Where are you now?"_

_ "I am still immersed in the tales of heroes." I look into the distance, at the city spread below us. The city in flames…smoke rising from stone towers. Cries of the fallen and the grieving reach my ears and I shudder. "I am following one of pure heart and bright steel…tomorrow we will be in that city, Cecile. Tomorrow we will fight to save all of Thedas."_

_ "And this is why your skin is torn and roughed by winds? You thought yourself suited to a life of hardships and trial?"_

_ "I am suited to it." I whisper, thinking of the lives I have aided in preserving, of Salem's heated professions that without me, she would never have reached this point. "I could not be bound in marble halls forever, Cecile. The life you had planned for me…it was…beautiful. But somehow I have managed to find greater beauty in darker places."_

_ "Come with me, my girl." Cecile extends her hand I take it. _

_ She leads me into the burning city. The acrid smoke catches in my breath and makes me cough. Blood scents the air, mixing with the flames, filling my senses with the scent of hot metal. I stumble over corpses and glance at the dead. Men…women…tiny children who have never committed a crime against the world. _

_ "This is where you find your greater beauty?" Cecile asks. "How is there beauty in this? How is there a single thing worth preserving?"_

_**Because this is the aftermath of the actions of heroes. This is what the legends never mention, the songwriters never write, the tales never tell. This is the hell of reality, Cecile. That which you locked me away from for so many years.**_

_ "This is what I have been fighting to prevent." I tell the woman who took my mother's place. "This is what I and those I love struggle against."_

_ "Heroes die, Leliana." Cecile's eyes fill with tears. "You were meant for a smaller life than this. A quiet one, filled with beauty and joy. Surrounded by your children in your old age, when you would walk into the Maker's grace after knowing nothing of hardship and tragedy. This is the life I wished for you…and your mother did as well."_

_ A single tear falls from my eye. "Heroes die, Cecile." I whisper, thinking of Salem's fate. "I am…not one of them."_

* * *

"Leliana." my name spoken in a voice that holds nothing but love, nothing but promise.

I awakened from my dream, feeling the hand clasped with mine. My eyes roved over the beautiful blue scarring, the single white line where this hand had been pierced through, saving me from torment. I gazed into Salem's eyes, feeling my own wet with tears…tears not caused by dreaming. "Yes, love?"

"Scouts have reported in." Salem whispered, stroking her marred hand through my hair. "The Archdemon is moving towards Denerim. It is time, dear heart."

She did not look away…Salem never looked away. Not when she had watched her father bleed out and her mother slaughtered by Howe's men. Not when Cauthrien demanded her surrender. Not when Loghain challenged her to death-duel. And not now, as she looked the future in the face…and saw her fate.

_Then I shall not look away either. I am by your side, my warden. Until the bitterest of ends._


	11. Chapter 11

**Salem**

I waited in the courtyard, watching those who had gathered close to me assemble. Alistair stood beside me in gleaming armor, face set in stone. He knew the stakes of what we next faced. Tainted warden blood coursed through our veins, screaming, burning…calling us toward our inescapable fate. Somewhere, in the distance of our minds, I knew we heard the same song; a chilling cry in a voice that could never have been human.

_It is the song of blade and blood; of destruction and chaos run rampant. It is the cry of a god seeking to recreate a twisted form of heaven on this earth. Where all are subjugated…where all free will is dead. Perhaps, to the ears of the darkspawn, this song is beautiful. Perhaps, when the Calling comes, that is why the wardens answer. Because the beauty of it frightens them…and they must end their lives lest they lose their minds in a swirling pit of insane grandeur. I do not know if such an answer has been found; though I know I shall not find it._

_ This __**is**__ my Calling. _

Zevran entered the courtyard, leading a spirited horse whose eyes reminded me much of the assassin himself. In Antiva, a life saved was a life that pledged itself to its savior. For some insane reason, Zevran considered me his salvation. But he had been loyal, a spirit of levity in dark times, an encouragement when it seemed the next moment held nothing but more pain. Whatever life he would find for himself next, it was he I worried for the least. Those of his particular mindset never lacked for joy and beauty, for they created it.

He nodded to me and smiled like a dagger's blade. I clenched the bridle of my horse tighter, telling my body not to shake, forcing my heart to slow its frantic beat.

_I am their leader. I cannot quake I cannot falter. I must go forward into whatever hell may wash over us like a tidal wave. _

"Hey, warden!" Oghren's gruff voice turned my attention to the stables, where the dwarf found himself precariously astride a pony. "Whaddaya figure this fer? The end of the world…dwarves ridin' horses. That oughta scare the scales of the Archdemon, eh?"

I smiled as the dwarf quaffed from his ubiquitous flask, shaking my head at the same time. Oghren could always return to Orzammar, should he so desire. Bhelen would turn no dwarves away. I pursed my lips, taking time to wonder if I had made the proper decision in the choosing of the crown. Harrowmont had by far been the better man, but Bhelen had the future of his people ever in his mind, even if his goals were for self-advancement.

_No. I cannot worry over what is done. All of life might end within the next sunrise and sunset. I have never dreamed of failing in this quest, but I cannot deny the possibility. _

Sten snorted at the hysterical appearance of Oghren on horseback and I sighed. I still did not know what to think of the qunari. He had disparaged me for freeing him, questioned me incessantly, decried my performance in the field due to my womanhood, and stood always at the outskirts, never taking part…yet…

_The beautiful inscriptions on the swords I carry. The symbols, not of my house, but of me…who I was, who I have become. I do not know if Sten will return with the answer for his Arishok, but I do hope that Par Vollen, his paradise, will be waiting for him with open arms when this is over. Even should he not survive…I do not know if the qunari even honor their dead. Why would they? Everything for them is so matter-of-fact, set in stone, unassailable. No matter. If he should fall, he will be honored in our ways, for being a hero among us. _

_ Arrangements have been made…Maker's fucking blood. __**Arrangements**__. As if that is all they are. As if I did not spend these last few days preparing for the burials of those I have come to love. The written instructions have been left with Isolde, to be carried out by Teagan if Eamon, too, should fall. _

The ground shuddered beneath me as Shale entered the courtyard, swatting at an unfortunate carrier pigeon. I watched the golem at war with her most hated enemy and another smile broke over my face. She would always find a place, for the rest of her unnatural life. At least now she was alive, inasmuch as a stone golem could live. It was a better fate than captivity.

"Your thoughts are dark, child." Wynne slid to my side, movements silent. "They are hovering in your eyes and threatening to drown you."

I took the hand of the woman who had been my teacher, my healer…my mother. Squeezing it, I confided the truth. "I am afraid, Wynne. All this time, all this preparation. Now the test is at last upon us and I feel so very ill-prepared."

"You are not alone, Salem." she answered. "There are others who know the terror of time on loan. Whatever may come, I wish you to know this. You have given me the greatest gift that the young can bestow upon the old."

"And what is that?" I asked as her voice caught.

"Hope." her watery blue eyes shone. "You give me hope, child. Hope that the generations of the future will remember the wisdom of their ancestors, and create their own wisdom to pass down. Hope that love can still flourish in times of trial. The Maker has blessed me, Salem. Blessed me with an unfathomable gift. Had I perished, truly perished, in the Circle tower, I would have died an old woman, afraid of the future. Now, whatever may come, I can depart in peace. Thank you, my girl. Bless you."

I hugged her, feeling as her hands moved behind my back to wipe away the tears she did not wish to show before me. I pulled away only when Leliana descended the steps, seeking me out. I went to the woman I loved, taking her hands in my own.

"Are…are we…ready?" she asked, meeting my eyes with a gaze as steady as the morning sun, and a voice hesitant as a midnight wind. Equal parts vulnerability and strength. Every part beautiful.

"Eamon sent birds to the Dalish, the dwarves, and the mages." I informed her, speaking past the knot in my throat. "We are ready to ride for Denerim."

"As you say." she whispered, and I knew she meant the words as I had ever meant them. A declaration of love.

"Leliana…"

She ignored me, scanning the crowd, seeing the retinue of familiar faces, and the stalwart gazes of Eamon's men, ready to fight for their homeland until the bitter end. "Where is Morrigan?" she asked, and my heart foundered.

I set my shoulders and cleared my throat. "She will not be joining us." I answered, and Leliana let it be. In truth, she had never thought much of the witch, and that Morrigan would abandon us now was no surprise, at least, not one worth exerting anger over.

"I see." she nodded and I released a breath I did not realize I had held.

_The reasons for Morrigan's absence are not something she should not know. Not, at least, until the end. _

"Well, my warden." she smiled, and it was for me alone. "The march to hell begins. As with all legends, is this not time to make a rousing speech?"

"I love you, Leliana." I whispered, feeling my heart crack. "No matter…no matter what happens, what truth comes to light, remember that. I beg you."

Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. "None of that." she pressed her fingers against my lips. "We are heroes, love. We must not break with words of love; we must not dance with futures that have no guarantee. Be who you must be, in this moment, and I swear, I will follow you."

_You are all that is good in this world. _I watched her depart, taking her place beside Wynne, extending a hand for Burrow to perch his head beneath. My brother joined them, even though he would not be riding out with us. I had made certain of that. I could not afford to risk losing him as well.

_Even if it is selfish, one Cousland must remain in Ferelden. _

"Look around you." I spoke, calm, hearing my voice echoing over the stones. "Gaze into the eyes of your brothers in arms; remember those you are leaving behind. This—this is why we fight. For those we hold in our hands, in our hearts. For those from whom death will take us." I gazed directly into Leliana's eyes, knowing that my own were wet with tears I could not afford to shed. "We face insurmountable odds. We go to greet a god cast down from heaven. This battle is not for the Maker's glory! This battle is not for king and country! We fight, because we must! We fight," _I fight_, "because we _**love!**_"

I lowered my head and let my voice die, breathing a prayer. _Maker, forgive me. Let me see her again. After the world ends. Let me see her again. _

I descended the stairs and mounted my horse, watching as my companions and Eamon's soldiers did the same. The gates screamed as they opened and I drew my sword, purposefully choosing the one Sten had engraved with the nightingale.

"_Forward!_" I cried, rallying those whose hearts, like mine, beat with fear. "_Into dark eternity!_"

I spurred my horse onward, leading many to their deaths.

_I will look you in the eye_, I promised the Archdemon who waited for me, _and I will laugh. Because you have no knowledge of what drives me. What I fight for, you have lost all comprehension of. I fight for her. For us. For __**love**__. And love, my enemy, cannot be killed. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Leliana**

The city was burning. It looked much the same as it had in my dream. Dark, covered with soot, filled with foreboding. Only here, the acrid air caught in my throat, the screams of the panicked and wounded and rang in my ears, drowning out reason, drowning out calm.

I glanced to Salem, watching her mouth purse in a thin, grim line. The dark circles beneath her eyes troubled me, but there was nothing that I could do to alleviate them. She had done the impossible…driving a battalion of soldiers from Redcliffe to Denerim in the span of two days, barely eating, never resting.

We had fought, during one of the brief periods of rest she had granted us. I had begged her to sleep, to catch her breath before we reached Denerim and poured our all into the fight against the Archdemon. Her eyes had filled with death and she had laughed, mocking me.

What good would it do, she had asked me, and I had gone silent, knowing the meaning behind her question.

_What good would it do, since I am fated to die? What good would it do? Let me live with the sun on my face while I yet may. Let me live._

My warden raised a hand, halting us. She dismounted and stretched the kinks from her muscles. Alistair followed, looking worried. I remained where I was, afraid to move, afraid to take one step further into the burning city.

The men of Redcliffe sagged behind us, many leaning on their weapons for support. There had not been enough time. There would never be enough time.

_I will say farewell to something that should have been forever. I will see an indomitable light extinguished. There is armor over my heart, my love. I am secure in my protection. I will weep for my loss, but not for you, as you would wish it. I will not scar your memory with bitter tears. I will cherish what we were. _

_ But there will be no legend. There will be no tale. I could not bring myself to craft such a thing. You have often begged for words…and I never told you. I never told you that you make my mind go blank, that you drive all eloquence from me, that you freed my awkward heart. I never spoke a dishonest word to you, my warden, and I am woven from dishonesty and stitched together with lies._

_ I owe you all that I am; for that, there are no words. _

I watched as Alistair and Salem ascended the stairway of an all but demolished guard tower. Salem laid her hand on the future king's shoulder and he flinched, but strode forward regardless.

"Men of Redcliffe, men of Ferelden," Alistair spoke, his voice carrying through the smoke, through the cries of the besieged, "I know you are tired. I know you stand here, before Ferelden's greatest battleground, at the end of mortal strength. But I ask that you carry on. I ask that you go forward. I…" his voice fell flat as he sought for inspiration.

He looked, at last, as we all did, to Salem.

"This woman!" he shouted now, making certain that his words were heard. "This woman has done what no other thought possible! She watched as all she loved was taken from her! She was forced into a life of uncertainties and tribulations that have no definitions, so encompassing are they! Even so, she did not falter! Even so, she stands before you, sword at the ready! I have watched her cut down injustice! I have witnessed as she selflessly shed blood for this land! I have seen her slay a dragon while blinded!"

A rush of disbelieving whispers rustled through the men. Whispers of those who wished to believe, but were not quite certain that they should. Warriors who worried that their leaders were creating falsehoods to drive them forward…into certain death.

_But it is true_, I thought, remembering how Salem had lost her sight for me…how we had fought for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. How I had run from her, shattering her heart against the stone and ice of the Frostback mountains. _Still, she found the strength to carry on, to fulfill the mission. And when we returned, she found herself at the mercy of Loghain's dungeons. She has survived more than any man or woman has a right, and there is a litany of scars on her body attesting to the truth of these bombastic tales. Every triumph has received its measure in blood. _

"This woman," Alistair continued speaking, "has fought for all of you! Her drive and determination have brought us here against all odds! There is still time to save the city! There is still time to wipe this abomination from the face of Thedas! Because the heart that beats within her is the same as the ones that beat within you and me! It is Ferelden! And. It. Is. Strong!"

A thunderous roar rose from the men, shields and swords were pounded together in a martial beat. Alistair turned to Salem, a silent question.

_Is there anything you wish to say? Any final encouragement you would wish to impart?_

Salem's eyes screamed out, meeting mine, as she refused Alistair's offer. I smiled, fortifying my heart.

_Of course not. She wishes to finish this as she began it. Humble. Claiming no greatness, denying all heroism. As far as she is concerned, Salem is doing what must be done, for there is no other to do it. There is no heart so strong as yours, my love. _

Salem mounted her horse and we rode towards the city gates, closer to the stench of sulfur, death, and blood. Closer to our impending doom.

_Closer_, my heart skipped and my armor faltered, _to the end that I have foreseen. Victory, no matter the cost. _

Salem reined her horse in alongside mine, looking at me with the strangest gaze, a half smile on her lips. I wanted to speak, to somehow lighten the present with words that could drive away the future, but my mouth had run dry; my words had burned.

I was no bard here, no weaver of legends and teller of tales. I was a woman who had come into the world with empty hands and a lunatic claim. My hands had been filled, with such beauty…but that was ended.

_And the end, as every true bard knows, is merely beginning again. Thus it shall be with me…and my empty hands. _

Understanding my lack of speech, Salem reached out her hand. I took it in my own as we marched into the burning city. This time, when surrounded by flames of trial…she would not be alone.

_I will make certain of that. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Salem**

I swung off of my horses' saddle as we approached the gates of Denerim. Small packs of darkspawn were pitted against Denerim's city guards. I turned back to Redcliffe's soldiers.

"Help where you can!" I pulled my swords and headed for the gates, all else forgotten.

The stench of death did not register in my mind. I did not hear the licking of the flames or the cries of the innocent. I could not let such things dissuade me. I had one purpose here, and one alone.

_To kill a god. To save a country. To bring about the vision for which I was named. Peace. _

"Warden Cousland!" a familiar voice barked and I strode towards it, past history forgotten.

"Darkspawn hordes raided the city at sunrise. Thus far, there has been no sign of the Archdemon."

"Then why in hell are the gates of the city shut?" I asked, livid. "Why did you leave the men and women of Denerim to suffer?"

"We've evacuated the city, warden." Cauthrien spared a moment to seem affronted. "There are those who would not leave; I cannot take responsibility for them. The darkspawn tunneled in, somehow, from the bloody Deep Roads. There's no end to them in the city, Salem. Our only option was to close them in. If we open the gates, we will not be able to withstand the force."

"A small group then." Riordan suggested, coming to stand beside me, as did Alistair. "Four or five of us. Let us into the city to deal with those that are there. Leave the rest at the gates…the Archdemon will attempt to surround us, but his forces will be routed when he himself falls."

Cauthrien nodded her assent. "I can give the order to open the gates. But it must be soon. Choose your group quickly, warden."

"Riordan, Wynne, Leliana, Sten." I listed the names without hesitation. Burrow yipped behind me and pushed at the back of my knee with his head. I smiled. "And Burrow."

"Good enough." Cauthrien nodded, shouting at various soldiers to give her aid.

"There will be more allies coming," I informed her, trusting that those who had sworn to uphold their vows would, in fact, do so. "When they arrive, let them into the city, little by little. Redcliffe's soldiers will remain with you here, under Alistair's command, and Arl Eamon is on his way with another battalion. I leave Denerim's guard in your charge."

"As you order, warden." Cauthrien placed her fist to her heart, a knight's show of fealty. Her eyes softened as she looked at me and I realized that they spoke what words she was too proud to loose from her lips.

_Apology accepted, Ser Cauthrien. Serve your country well, as you have always wished to do. _

Those I had chosen came forward, surrounding me...knowing that their task was to keep me and Riordan alive until one of us destroyed the Archdemon. I felt no fear as I looked into their eyes. All foreboding left me as I met Leliana's eyes. _I will not lose. No. I **cannot** lose._

"So this is it?" Alistair's eyes flashed as he approached me. "This is where you leave me behind, _again_?"

"This is where our paths diverge." I nodded. "I am not leaving you behind, Alistair. It is you are who leaving me. As soon as I enter those gates, you put me from your thoughts, do you understand?"

He said nothing; crossed his arms and stared at the ground.

"_Do. You. Understand?_"

"I do not like this, Salem." he nodded his understanding and voiced his anger. "We've been through too much together for you to toss me aside now."

_Beautiful boy. I am in no way tossing you aside. It is as I said before. You are Ferelden's future. I am her past. I will fade, with the anachronism of my nobility and beliefs. Let me go into the place where I belong. Our people need you._

I wrapped my arms around him in a brief embrace, kissing him on the cheek. "If I were going to toss you aside, Alistair, I would have done it so long before now."

He laughed at that, and the ache in my spirit eased. "I'm quite certain you would have. You've changed me, Salem Cousland. And I'm not quite certain I like it."

"Whether or not you like it, you must learn to accept it." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "We were not born to do great deeds, but we have done them, and shall continue to do so. Now, my king, save your city."

"And what will you do?" he asked, watching me, feeling the others I would leave behind surround him in a show of support.

I smiled, "I have a god to slay."

As if on cue, the rising sun faded from our view. The earth trembled as an unholy shriek drilled into our ears. Men and darkspawn both collapsed to the ground, the former in fear, the latter in awe. I glanced up, hearing the cry transform into a plaintive, heart-wrenching melody. Tears set into my eyes as I watched the Archdemon's wings blot out the sun.

_Well met, my enemy_, I thought. _I am coming for you. Sing your songs while you may, for soon I shall tear them from your throat. _

Riordan strapped a borrowed shield across his left arm; Wynne set a glow of light about her staff. Sten took his massive double-edged blade in hand. Leliana set the string to her bow. Burrow growled at the gates of the city, as though willing them to open.

I glanced to Cauthrien and nodded. I could waste no more time with words. There were no more farewells left within me. Those I cared for most, save Alistair, would be with me at the very end. That would be enough for me.

_Live up to your end of this_, I spoke to myself as the gates of Denerim screamed. _And perhaps you can rewrite destiny. Much has been given…much has been sacrificed. Somehow, it will equalize in the Maker's eyes. I must believe in that. I must trust..._

A crack appeared in the gates and I rushed forward, followed by the ones who had been with me since the beginning. An arrow whistled through my hair as I entered and I arced my blades out in a twin strike, feeling the new swords slice through darkspawn armor as though it were made of water.

Metal shrieked on metal, and all else was forgotten as swords caught flesh and the stench of death filled the air. We were trapped in a city overrun by darkspawn. The archdemon flew above the city, screaming its songs of encouragement.

There were those I missed at my side already. Zevran's braggadocios counting of enemies felled. Morrigan's acidic insults against the weakness of our enemies…and allies, for that matter. Alistair's calm, steady eyes as we cut down enemies together. Oghren's drunken wielding of an axe turning into an impossibly efficient berserker's rage.

_Nowhere to go_, I thought as my blades operated independently of my mind, cutting down my foes. The gates of Denerim thundered closed behind us, and I heard the bars being set. _No way out but to fight._

"Salem!" Riordan shouted, bringing my attention to him. His eyes were alight with battle-fever and…fear. "Salem," he spoke again, somewhat calmer. "He knows."

I did not need to ask to know that my fellow warden spoke of the Archdemon.

"He knows we are here…and why we have come."

_Maker's blood-soaked breath. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Leliana**

"Sten," Salem shouted, her voice reaching our ears even in the midst of chaos, "eyes on the sky!"

_Riordan said the Archdemon was aware of us…of them. Wynne, myself, and the qunari are not important to it. We are not the ones who can end its life, its dark dream, permanently. _

I set an arrow against my bowstring and fired randomly into the streets, knowing the missile would strike. Our enemies were thick, and no reinforcements would be coming. We had been sealed in.

_A fitting tomb. _

"Leliana, to your left!" Wynne called, drawing my eyes to the assembling genlock archers.

I nocked another arrow, certain that before this battle's end, I would have to steal ammunition from my foes. A spiral of unnatural light spooled around the tip of my arrowhead and I fired into the genlocks, watching as lightning exploded from the arrow and brought down, not just the one I had struck, but the rest of them as well.

I sighed in relief and turned back to my comrades, setting another arrow against my string, preparing.

"Archdemon in flight!" Sten warned us.

"Take cover!" Riordan shouted and we ducked into various alleys and doorways.

A massive wind crashed down upon us with hurricane force as the Archdemon's wings beat against the earth. The stone wall at my back trembled with the force of its earsplitting cry.

"_Wynne!_" Salem shrieked, and I did not understand the panic in her voice.

I looked back, watching the Archdemon perch on the stone wall, directly above me. Blocks of heavy stone rained down, torn away from the wall by the Archdemon's talons. I curled into myself, awaiting the crushing of bones, the tearing of flesh, black unconsciousness and death.

White, warm light enveloped me and the pain I had been anticipating did not come. Stone crashed onto the shield of magic and splintered, falling to the ground. I breathed a sigh of relief, shuddering as the Archdemon shrieked once more.

"Leliana!" Salem's voice, screaming my name in frantic prayer.

She dashed into the street, confronted by a hurlock alpha.

_Salem, no!_ my thoughts cried out. _The Archdemon is still here! It is your blood he cries for, not mine! Do not put your life at risk for me!_

Salem's blades made quick work of the hurlock, cutting him down to the stone streets, washing them with tainted blood. She took another step towards me when the Archdemon let loose another shrilling cry.

_This one…_I concentrated on the cacophonous music…_is different from the others. This is not a war cry, not battle song. I have heard this somewhere before…Maker's breath, no. The dragon…in the mountains…before it released its flames._

I looked for Wynne, hoping that I could call her attention to this; that she could bring up another shield to defend Salem from the onslaught of the demon's flames. But the mage was embattled by darkspawn. To tear away her concentration would be to end her life.

Time seemed to slow as the scene unfolded. Riordan roared a warning. Salem glanced into the sky and paled. A wash of blue fire, an unholy heat, rained down into the streets.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as my warden crossed her arms before her face…but it would do no good. I watched the stone of the streets melt beneath the heat of the Archdemon's impossible fire and I turned away, unable to witness the woman I loved…_die before her time_.

"Salem!" Wynne called out, and I forced myself to open my eyes.

_I have to know..._

The warden stood amid the wash of flames, the gauntlet of her right hand cracked and shattered away, the blue lines of scarring from dragon's blood glowed against her skin. A wash of combative flame rushed over Salem's body, pulsing out and deflecting the Archdemon's fire. Salem dropped to her knees, glaring up at the Archdemon with eyes that screamed of waiting death. A predator's eyes.

The fire ended abruptly and the demon took to the sky, bellowing in rage. I rushed to Salem, feeling the heat of the melted stone seep into my leather boots, scorching the soles. Sten, Riordan, and Wynne surrounded us, keeping attackers at bay.

"Salem!" her name tore from my lips as I clutched her hand, jerking my own back as I felt the chill of her skin. "Salem, speak to me! Are you all right!? Say _something!_"

"What…in hell…just happened?" she asked, panting. "Leli," her eyes filled with confusion, "how am I alive?"

"The blood of dragons protects its own." Sten intoned. "In the slaying of one, in coating your skin with its blood, you have gained protection from other enemies of its kind, for you have earned the right to walk among them, as one of them."

Salem stared at her scarred hand, at last turning her face to mine. There were thin lines of blood across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose where the shards of her gauntlet had torn skin. "Are you all right?" she whispered, the fury in her eyes darkening to fear.

"I…I am."

_I am thanking the Maker for the strangest of blessings. I thought you were naught but cursed by those scars…only not to find that they have saved your life from a greater foe. How strangely does the universe turn…guided by the Maker's whimsical hand. _

"Do not make me watch such a display of stupidity again, Warden Cousland!" Riordan cautioned her, vehement. "Your life is one we cannot afford to throw to the winds! Stop endangering it for _senseless_ reasons!"

"Of course." Salem rose to her feet, voice dripping with bitterness. "I cannot endanger the life doomed to die. Still your _fucking_ tongue, Riordan. I will not be upbraided for caring for those of untainted blood. I will not hold my life in priority!"

"Then you are a fool." the senior warden condescended, staring into Salem's eyes for perhaps the first time, so wide with apprehension did his own grow.

"Fool I may be, and if so, let that be my one pride. I would have it written of me that I gave my life so that _others_ might live, not that I threw good men and women into the fire so that I might walk to my destination_ over their **corpses**_!"

"Now is not the time for eloquent metaphor!" Riordan bellowed. "Now is the time to take that creature to the abyss!"

"You are so eager to do this as wardens alone?!" Salem pushed him from our assembled group. "Find him yourself and strike that fateful, final blow!"

Riordan began to speak as the gates of Denerim creaked open once more and a group of mages dressed in Circle robes entered. The air electrified with spells as the darkspawn fell before the might of united magic.

"The mages." Wynne smiled, beaming. "They came. Maker be praised."

_One ally remains faithful to their promise_, I smiled. _Thank whatever kindness fate still possesses for us._

"Very well." Riordan looked to the sky, tracking the Archdemon's movements. "It seems he has settled for the top of Fort Drakon as his stronghold. I will meet him there. Since you are so foolishly set on saving lives already lost, there are two darkspawn generals," he closed his eyes, as though meditating, lifting his hand in direction, "there."

"That's the Alienage Gate." I spoke, remembering passing through it not so short a time ago.

"They are making the minds of this rabble more cohesive in thought, carrying out the Archdemon's bidding. There will be confusion in the ranks if you bring them down."

"Burn in hell." Salem spat as her fellow warden departed.

_She cannot countenance those who seemingly have no care for the lives of others. To even harbor such thoughts is anathema to her. It is that which I first saw in her…it was that which first drew me towards her. It is such things that made me love her. _

A young mage ran to Salem, stopping briefly to nod to Wynne. "Warden, what would you have us do?"

"Secure this area," Salem ordered. "Finding the wounded and survivors and evacuating them is your _first_ priority. Then bring down the darkspawn."

"Understood." the young mage rushed off to dispense the orders to his fellows and Wynne smiled at them with sorrow, wishing that none so young would be tainted by the vision of this nightmarish devastation.

"To the alienage." Salem spoke, calm, unfazed by our loss of Riordan. "If I can cause dissension in their ranks, it will help the soldiers outside the city. I will not lose more lives than necessary."

"Lead on, warden." Sten fell in line behind her and I set an arrow against my bowstring.

_The fighting is not yet done. Already I have nearly lost you. Please, Salem, hold strong until the final battle. Do not make me say farewell until I must. I love you…too much to…too much. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Salem**

I ducked under a hurlock's blade and brought my sword up into its unarmored neck. He fell with a guttural roar and I heard scraping against my armor as a genlock's crooked sword sought my skin. I kicked it to the ground and watched, smiling, as an arrow sliced through its skull.

_Maker, I am blessed._

We raced for the Alienage gates, downing the foes in our way, listening to the shouts of the Circle mages. Riordan had vanished into the throng of the enemy, choosing to follow his own fool's path through the streets of Denerim.

_He does not understand_, bitter thoughts clouded my mind. _He is a warden, and has ever been surrounded by those of his own kind. He never had to bring an alliance together from a splitting country. He never had to depend on the graciousness of strangers who became friends…lovers. Good men and women willing to fight, even though their fates could have been far kinder. _

_Bastard. Condemning me for crimes not committed. I have known he would die from the moment he claimed that he would strike the final blow. And his death will not be caused by our victory. I am sorry, Riordan. Perhaps, had we met, under different circumstances..._

"Salem!" Leliana cried from the Alienage portcullis. "The gate is barred!"

_Damn it!_

"Sten!" I roared, bringing my blades in a sweeping arc through a hurlock's neck. "I need your help!"

I sheathed my swords and raced for the wheel that would open the gate. I pulled at it, gritting my teeth as I strained against the weight of the heavy wood and iron beams that sealed the gate. Dimly, through the raucous chattering of the darkspawn, I heard the cries of those besieged…without exit.

_They sealed in the elves!?_ Fury built strength in my arms and I heard the gates begin to groan. The qunari reached me and lent his aid, his massive strength turning the wheel as though it were but a child's top. The beams retreated into the walls and the portcullis rose.

I paused for a moment to breathe before entering the streets of Denerim's Alienage. The wails of frightened children met my ears and a chill fissured through my heart.

_I will make certain…I will make certain that Alistair's Ferelden __**never**__ countenances such an atrocity. Even if I must come back from the grave, I __**swear**__ this will Never. Happen. **Again**!_

"Shore up that barricade!" a crisp, feminine voice met my ears. "Make certain they do not break through!"

We ran through the streets towards the voice, stopping short as the Alienage opened to what must have been their pittance of a town square, with a large, ancient tree in the center. An elf with flame red hair stood, looking across a footbridge at a group of elves who were straining against a makeshift gate.

My blood tingled and I could sense the generals that Riordan had warned me of. Massive, old, bristling with darkspawn power.

_If they make it through that gate…_I did not allow myself to finish the thought.

"Shianni!" Leliana exclaimed, rushing to the red-haired elf. "Shianni, what has happened here?"

_They must have met when I sent Leliana to the Alienage_, I realized as the elf turned and I saw recognition flare in her eyes.

"Mistress Leliana?" Shianni asked, disbelieving. Leliana nodded and the elf gazed at me. "Am I to assume that you are the infamous Warden Cousland?"

I kept an eye on the straining barricade, striding forward and extending my hand. The elf set aside her sharpened stave and clasped my hand in her own. "I am. Well met."

"Andraste's ass, warden." the elf humphed and I smiled, enjoying the ferocity of her spirit. "We've no time for formalities. The blighted Denerim guards sealed the gates when they evacuated the city. I've done what I can, but we have no weapons, and that barricade will not hold much longer."

_They will not survive when that barricade comes down_, the stone trembled and I saw the indicative horns and looming form of an ogre.

"Get everyone out." I glared at Shianni, pulling the swords I had sheathed when we opened the gate. "Now."

"This is our home, warden." the elf stood toe to toe with me, determination shining in her eyes. "We were unjustly jailed here, but we'll defend it tooth and nail. We've had too much help from shemlen as of late," she shot a glare at Leliana, but it held no anger. Only self-recrimination.

"You have children and the aged here." the splintering of wood as the ogre's fist beat against the makeshift gate. "I will give them a home to come back to; I swear it on my own blood."

The elf smirked. "I suppose those madcap stories about you must have a grain of truth to them." she muttered. "No shem I know would risk their lives for the elves."

"She did." I glanced to Leliana, softening the resolve in my eyes, letting it turn to love.

"Yes," Shianni turned her gaze to me and lowered her voice, "but she is you. That is plain to see."

Without further ado, the elf turned to her people. "Gather the children and the elders and evacuate!" she shouted orders in a stronger voice than most battlefield generals possessed. "The gates are open! We _must_ get out of the city!"

The elves scrambled to obey her orders, abandoning the gate as the ogre beat against it. One more solid blow, and it would break.

"Leliana, bow at the ready," I gave orders of my own, "Wynne, lay a barrier after the elves. The darkspawn end here, or we do. Sten, right flank, Burrow, left."

The ogre beat on the barrier again and wood splintered as the darkspawn poured through. Leliana fired arrows at an inhuman speed, crowding the choke point with darkspawn bodies. Magic shimmered behind me as Wynne protected the elves' escape.

The ogre lumbered over the barrier and roared. I charged him, feeling his power, his strength. _This is one of them_, I knew_, one of the darkspawn generals. _

Sten let out a qunari battle cry and Burrow howled as they protected the flank, letting me focus my concentration on the ogre. Unlike the others, this one wore armor, protecting its already thick hide. He lifted a chunk of fallen stone from the ground and flung it towards me, screaming in imagined triumph.

I could not avoid it, I turned jumped out, letting the stone collide against my back, feeling pain shear across my skin; the breath forced from my lungs. I lay there, gasping, listening to the footfalls of the ogre come closer. I gripped my blades in my hand, struggling to breathe.

"Salem!" Leliana shrieked, and I heard the tinny sound of arrows pinging off of armor. _No!_ My resolve deepened and I clawed my way to my feet, facing the ogre_, I will not let her attract his attention!_

I charged the ogre once more, diving between its legs and slashing out at the back of its knees, catching one with the tip of my blade. Black, viscous blood dripped from the slight cut and the ogre screamed, but did not collapse. He lifted his uninjured leg and pounded the ground, sending tremors through my body, causing my teeth to rattle.

I scrabbled to my feet once more, standing behind the ogre now, catching a glimpse of the leather that bound the armor to its body. I struck for that, satisfied as the straps shredded and the dark metal clattered to the stone. The ogre swiveled and his massive arm swiped out at my chest.

My feet left the ground and I screamed as the ogre forced me through the flimsy wooden walls of an Alienage dwelling. Splinters gouged into the unprotected parts of my body and blood sluiced down my face from a gash in my forehead, burning as it spilled into my eye.

I forced myself to stand yet again, angry as the ogre ripped apart the walls yet further, seeking me out. _My death would have the same effect as his. Confusion and dissension in the ranks. Chaos and destruction, and a surer chance of victory_.

I walked to the ogre this time, unsteady on my feet, watching for his attacks. He turned his head this way and that, seeking me with his poor eyesight. I made as little noise as possible, letting the din of the battle outside drown me out. I raised my blade, wincing as the muscles in my back protested, and gathered momentum.

I jumped out for the ogre's chest, plunging my blade into its now unprotected heart. The beast screamed in surprise and pain, rearing away from the building. I kept my hand fixed to my sword, twisting the blade, pulverizing its heart as it thrashed and writhed.

At last, it fell and the ground shuddered. I lay across the beast's body, still clutching my sword, muscles trembling with shock, the pain in my skull becoming more prominent by the second. I felt magic near me once more; glanced up to see Wynne laying a barrier across the ruined makeshift gate, keeping the darkspawn at bay.

Strange, animalistic cries went up from the darkspawn as their cohesion sundered. I lifted my head, glancing to make sure the others were all right. Wynne's knuckles were bloodied, Sten had several light gashes on his neck and cheeks. Leliana's armor had a tear in the leather on her right side, but I could see no blood.

_They're safe. They're all right. Thank the Maker._

I blinked.


	16. Chapter 16

**Leliana**

The ogre that had broken the elves' defenses fell to the ground with a crash, Salem on top of it, clinging to her sword as though it were her life. Wynne threw a sheet of magic against the ruin of wood and stone, keeping the darkspawn beyond at bay.

Salem lifted her head, her face half-covered in blood. The tiniest hint of a smile quirked her lips and her eyes closed as her body went slack across the ogre's.

Fear gripped my heart with more ferocity than when I had seen the massive armored ogre throw my warden through the walls of a building.

"Leliana, I must hold the spell." Wynne's voice held something near to panic. "Go to her, _now_."

Needing no more encouragement, I rushed to Salem, avoiding the ogre's hand as it twitched in the throes of death. My right side burned as I pulled Salem's body off of the ogre and I winced, feeling fresh blood stain my shirt.

_Clever little genlock_, a litany of Orlesian curses ran through my mind. _I should not have let my guard down…no matter what happened to Salem…I'm useless to her if I'm injured. _

"Salem." I rested her back against the ogre's massive body, frowning as I saw the deep cut in her forehead, stretching back into her hair. "Salem, wake up."

Her brows furrowed, but she did not stir. _This is no time for gentleness_, I thought, hating myself for the realization and acceptance. _I cannot afford to waste time we do not possess. Even now, the Archdemon is on the move. Even now, more darkspawn converge on the troops outside the city. Salem herself would never forgive me if I endangered this mission in any way. _

"_Salem_." I tapped her cheek, wincing as leather struck flesh.

Her eyes flashed open and she leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. "What…happened?" she mumbled, disoriented. "I only closed my eyes a moment…"

"Are you all right?" I asked, trying to ease the beating of my frantic heart.

_I hate the sight of blood on her skin. I hate seeing her body beaten and battered; hate giving her over to battle and blades. I have seen her true heart. She was not meant for a life wielding the sword. Though the talent she has for it is uncanny…it is she who deserves the death that Celine spoke to me of. Quiet, at peace, surrounded by those that love her. Not as it will be. Not at the hand of a beast who forced swords into her grip and planted scars on her body with surrogate hands. _

Salem quirked her lips in an acerbic half smile. "I suppose I have to be." she muttered, beginning to get to her feet. I extended my hand to help her, frowning as she lost her balance. I winced as more of her weight settled against me and my injured side twinged.

I cursed myself as Salem's eyes fired to mine. She withdrew herself from my support and surveyed me, critically assessing the visible tear in my armor.

"You're injured." she spoke, a dark energy overwhelming her voice. "How badly?"

"Merely a flesh wound," I tried to assuage her, but the fire burning from her gaze did not lose its heat. "A lucky strike is all. In truth, Salem. A trifling inconvenience, nothing more."

"Wynne!" Salem roared, seeming surer on her feet, and filled with a fury that sent a chill pounding through my bones. "Drop that barrier and let them come!"

The senior enchanter gave no reply, and the barrier did not fall. The healer, the mother, in her would not cease protecting Salem until she was certain that the woman was capable of fighting once more.

Salem's face set into a mask of death; her hands gripped her swords with grim resolve. The blood on her face went unnoticed; the bruises on her body were forgotten.

_Because a blade marked my skin. Because my blood has been shed in this venture. That is the reason she stands with such surety after nearly being battered to death by a giant. You have unlocked within me a strength I did not know I possessed, my love, for there are many who would burn to ash from simply being loved by you. _

"There is another, like that one," Salem said, gesturing to the ogre. "One more, then to Fort Drakon, then to the Archdemon. So close." she seemed to be speaking only to herself. "So close and then this will be done."

_And you with it_, my own darkness intoned. _Do you rush to greet death so eagerly, my love? Not so long ago you spoke of this moment with hesitation, trepidation, unbridled grief. Why now do you seem to wish to rush headlong into your own eternity? I can only pray that Riordan will greet the demon first and bring it down. Is it evil of me to wish that another die so that you might live? You died for my life, Salem. You are worthy of equal or greater sacrifice, and if I could take your fate in my hands and carry it out myself, I most certainly would. _

"Warden, above you!" Sten called out and Salem turned her face to the sky, watching as the Archdemon swooped in lazy circles over the city. Jets of blue flame darted from between its teeth, igniting the streets, melting mortar and stone until the buildings began to crumble.

The demon had something clutched in its claws, something bright. It glinted in the dim light provided by the smoke-covered sun. As the dragon flew above us, it trumpeted in triumph, releasing whatever it had caught between its talons.

Salem stretched out her arm, placing it against my chest, pushing me backwards as the glimmering missile fell.

It crashed to the ground with a sickening, wet thud. Pain speared through me as every hope I had clung to splintered into glass and shredded through my soul. The dream was ended. The chance was gone. My future now rang, hollow in my chest, with a starker clarity than I had ever wished to know existed.

Riordan's dark eyes gazed, unseeing, into the sky; his body jutted at odd angles and broken bones protruded from sundered armor.

_Oh, Salem_, I watched as my warden walked to the body of the man she had never held in high esteem. _I know you cared little for him, but no…I know you have no grief to waste. This is my sorrow…my great loss. It will be as you have foreseen it, my love. That Riordan would fail, and you would be forced to strike the blow that saves us all. _

Salem hovered over Riordan's body, whispering something. Words from one Grey Warden to another, so that the souls of the fallen might rest in peace, knowing their work would not be left unfinished.

My warden rose from Riordan's body, her bright blue eyes dark with the promise of death and, for the first time, anticipation of the same. There would be no triumphant embrace. There would be no passionate kiss after the world's ending.

"Wynne," Salem spoke, "bring down the barrier."

_There will only be me…and my memories. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Salem**

I looked from the wreck of Riordan's body to Leliana. I felt as though the ogre general had risen from the grave, gripped my heart in its hand, and crushed it until there was nothing left. No beat. No blood. No feeling.

I had never seen my perpetually chipper, ever-optimistic bard look so…desolate. It seemed as though despair had stamped itself on her face with an iron brand.

_You had hoped…_tears I could not afford began to swim in my eyes. _You had hoped that he would live to face the Archdemon, to take the blow in my place. But the times are against us. The road I have followed has set me here, and none other could take the responsibility that the Maker has placed in my hand. I am sorry, dear heart. I have no comfort for you. _

I dashed the moisture from my eyes and glared at Wynne, who had twice ignored my missives to drop her protective barrier.

"Mage," I growled, becoming the woman I had to be—cold, unfeeling, ruthless, set towards victory alone, "bring down that barrier, or so help me…"

"Done." her staff scraped across the ground and her magic winked out of existence with a flash.

"Salem…" Leliana called after me as I strode towards the darkspawn.

For the first time, I ignored her. I ignored them all. The sooner this was finished, the sooner I would know. It seemed only Burrow and the qunari understood, for both came to my side, shadowing me, faithful, intent on success or death in the attempt.

I forced the aching in my skull from my mind; I disregarded the hazy light at the edges of my vision. I could not give into the demands of my battered body. My enemy did not know pain. My enemy did not know fear, or death, or loss, or love. In order to win this, for the moment, I would have to take on attributes of the beast I was striving to destroy.

_I have always promised that there will be time. I have never broken my word. I swear, even if my last words are an apology for the cold heart I must now portray, I will speak them. _

I lifted my swords, ignoring the shrieking of my bruised muscles, the weight of the armor that threatened to drown me even as it preserved my life.

"You've gone cold, warden." Sten mused as we surveyed the enemies set before us. "The Qun teaches that a warrior's blood must heat with battle, that he will never know victory without the fire of assurance in his heart. Tell me, this distance I sense in you, this frigidity of soul, is it because you have realized you are unsuited to this task? That the enemy you face is far greater than you imagined?"

I could sense the remaining general, a slavering mass of madness and bloodthirst. He would fall next, by my hand.

"It is because I am human." I muttered. "Because fires die for us, in us…and then we have nothing left."

"What you have is behind you, Salem." Sten said. "What must be done is ahead. Thus far you have not forsaken one for the other. Why now does this change?"

"You see before you the death of hope…a concept outside of the certainty of your Qun. What is behind me must remain there. What lies ahead is all that remains."

The waves of darkspawn parted before us as a hurlock alpha emerged from the depths of Denerim's alleys. The spiked edges of its armor cut through the air, threatening. Its ghoulish face wore the garish version of what might pass for a smile. In an eerie show of cogency, the general lifted his arm and pointed his hand at me, calling me out for the death of his comrade, challenging me to a death-duel. Warden against darkspawn; tainted blood burning against tainted blood.

I took a step forward, ready to meet this new challenge. The other darkspawn seemed to vanish into the shadows, seeking new opponents, letting their leaders seek my death.

"Then tell me this," Sten stalled me with his unending questions, "the woman who loves you, the songstress. She trusts in you, implicitly; places all that you deem as hope, in you. If you are hope personified, then hope cannot be dead, or dying, for you yet breathe."

I continued towards the hurlock general, sparing one moment to glance back at Sten. "Our world does not work in such a manner." I told him, almost regretting the truth of my words. "Would that it did."

_Would that it did_.

The darkspawn general before me bared his razor-edged, rotting teeth and let loose an unholy shriek that did nothing to compare to the Archdemon, yet it still sent a chill through my bones. I raised my blades as the general began to charge, watching his wicked, spiked sword raise in a blow that could shear armor and tear skin.

A fierce wind rustled through my hair and I froze, staring in shock as the charging general stopped short, confusion in the midnight pits of its eyes. Tainted blood slipped from its neck into its armor, a black, viscous sludge. I stared at the arrow pinned into its throat, watching in disbelief as another and another buried themselves in its skull.

I turned around, listening as chaos erupted from the darkspawn, as many of them dropped their weapons and fled the city, their unity sundered as the carriers of the Archdemon's consciousness fell into the abyss.

Leliana stood there, stoic, bow drawn and at the ready. Her eyes gleamed like the heart of a star, and I felt myself once more on the edge of the only precipice I had willingly fallen over. _Be who you must be, in this moment_, her words from Redcliffe reached my ears again_, and I swear, I will follow you_.

_So beautiful…so beautiful and fierce. How can I be your hope, when I am consistently overshadowed in the light that you are?_

Burrow howled in the distance and I turned to look. The drawbridge to Fort Drakon lay before us, but the Archdemon was in flight, swooping down upon the now cleared courtyard, seeking the minds that it no longer had contact with.

"Run to the fort!" I ordered, pushing my voice to its limits, making certain that my companions were in front of me as we raced to reach Fort Drakon before the Archdemon became aware of my presence.

_I cannot afford Riordan's fate. _

A wash of blistering heat flared behind me as the Archdemon spat flames at the drawbridge. The thick, wooden planks vaporized beneath my feet and I felt myself begin to fall. Sten grasped my wrist in a bone bruising grip and hauled me onto the safety of the stone.

Wynne entered the portcullis that would lead us into Fort Drakon, the qunari following her, silent even though he had saved my life. Leliana turned to join them…turned away from me, keeping her promise. To follow me, no matter what I became.

_But this…this frigid, emotionless, silent woman…she is not the one who gathered an army, who defeated blindness and death…who fell in love. My victories have been because of __**my**__ hope, __**my **__heart._

"Leliana," I reached for her arm and turned her to me_, _"I _love_ you."

I disregarded my enemies, ignored the flames of hell engulfing our exit, and kissed the woman I loved.


	18. Chapter 18

**Leliana**

Salem's lips were fire against my mouth, hotter than the conflagration that burned behind us, more furious than an ancient god in all its wrath. I stood, clenched between her hands and swords, confused.

_I watched a wall of ice overtake your soul, my love. I saw you accept your death after Riordan's failure. You turned away from my voice; you rushed to greet a stronger opponent than you without even a glance my way. Why now this change? _

The kiss broke and Salem drew away, meeting my eyes with tears swimming in her own. Emotion printed itself on her face, such sorrow and love that I felt my bewilderment melt away. I would accept this-her, all of her, even her ridiculous moments of ill-timed affection.

That she simultaneously denied and indulged her heart; that she could command and yet love, struck a spark in my being that I had never known before. Never had I known a spirit made of steel and silk. Never had I felt a touch that could sunder my very soul with its intensity and gentleness.

"Salem…"

"Forgive me." she apologized, once more, without need. "I lost myself for a moment."

I could not resist a smile. "Before or after the kiss?"

"Before." her scarred right hand reached out and stroked my cheek, a caress in the midst of battle. "Thank you…for being the light that leads me ever out of darkness."

_But I cannot lead you through the end. Even should we perish together, we will not walk into eternity side by side. There is too much blood on my hands, my love. Innocent blood. You have killed, but only in defense of the helpless. You have destroyed, but only to bring about new life. Such things will balance in the Maker's judgment. But me…I will be torn from your side, even in death, for I do not deserve the paradise that awaits you._

"There is no darkness in you." I spoke, fully believing the words.

Salem averted her eyes, a shadow crossing her features. I did not know the meaning of it, only trembled from a slight chill. She did not believe me, that much she made clear. But I spoke the only truth I knew. That I had never seen this woman strike out in anger; that she had never granted herself a selfish wish that did not benefit at least one other.

In the distance, a horn sounded, low and sonorous. Salem's eyes lifted and lit with an inexplicable hope.

"That will be Eamon and the detachment from Redcliffe." a lopsided smile crossed her face and she pulled away from me, dashing through the portcullis that led to Fort Drakon. "No time to waste!"

I followed after her, feeling confusion once again swarm over me. I had expected reservation from her, hesitation, more words whispered between us. Yet now she rushed towards her impending doom, trusting in me to be at her heels.

_I do not understand you, my warden. I believe I could spend a century in your presence, and never fully comprehend the depth of your heart and the thoughts that whisper through your mind. But I do not have that chance. I will not see that smile cross your lips with the morning. I will…I will miss you, Salem. And I shall not love again; I know now I can make that promise. _

Burrow's war cry shattered through the air as we entered the path that led to Fort Drakon. Darkspawn archers hid in and amongst the topiaries, firing missiles at the mage, the qunari, and Salem. I remained hidden in the shadows of the portcullis, pulling the last arrow from my quiver and nocking it against my bow.

I fired at my closest enemy, content as I watched it drop to the ground, clawing at the arrow in its chest. I dashed towards it, pulling a dagger, cutting down its compatriots who turned to me with crossbows. The injury in my side burned as I brought my dagger into ones unsuspecting skull, turning to free the blade and keeping the fountaining blood from coming into contact with my own.

My left arm shrieked as the familiar edge of a darkspawn arrow sliced through it. I ignored the pain and threw my dagger, catching the genlock in the thigh. It wavered on its feet, giving me enough time to lift the darkspawn's crossbow from the ground and fire the bolt into my living enemy's heart. The genlock slumped to the ground with a croak and I lifted the quiver from the first enemy I had felled, slinging it across my back, pulling an ebon-shafted, raven fletched arrow from it.

I set the arrow against my bow and fired into the enemies harrying Sten. The qunari glared at me, as though affronted.

_Stubborn, strange man_. I smiled as I remained hidden in the bushes, assassinating those who considered their mission the same. My arms were burning, shoulders tense to the point of agony, but I fought on. We were not done yet. We had not ended the Archdemon. And even though I knew that a strike from my hand would not kill it, I would do my utmost to rid that evil from this world.

_I swore to serve the Maker and he sent me this vision. I did not know then, how much I would loathe the fulfilling of His prophecy. I had kept myself so locked away, so closeted, so protected that I never thought I could feel loss again. I had thought all grief behind me. Now, _I watched Salem, radiant in her soot-colored armor as she struck down the demons of the abyss, _I shall mourn for the rest of my days. Whether I am forced to walk this world without her, or separated from her at the Maker's side, my pain will be that of legends. _

_And it __**will be**__ worth it. _

"Leliana!" Salem called, turning her head, searching for me as she dodged the sword strikes and arrows that still hurtled through the air.

"Behind you." I called, following as we raced for the gates of the Fort. Sten shoved them open and we slipped inside. We paused to breathe for a moment, enjoying our temporary safety.

Wynne's robe had a crimson-stained tear at the shoulder, but it was slight, more than likely caused by an arrow, rather than a blade. Sten had a bolt embedded in his massive thigh, but his face gave away no pain, and he moved as a man uninjured.

Salem assessed the damage done to both of them and turned her eyes to me, frowning as she saw the new gash across my arm.

"Are you prepared?" she asked all of us. "I will bring no one with me who is unwilling to give their lives. If this is as far as you wish to go, I will not keep you here, and…thank you…my friends, for all that you have sacrificed."

"Gratitude is unbecoming in a leader." Sten scoffed, turning towards the stairway that would lead us to the next level of the fort…then to the roof…and the final trial. "Perhaps the top of this tower and the end of this war will answer my Arishok's question. I am with you, warden."

"Wynne?" Salem looked to the senior enchanter, giving her the opportunity to return to her Circle, to the young mages who could benefit from her wisdom and guidance.

"Trying to rid yourself of me, Salem?" the healer teased. "I will not be disposed of so easily. You would have given your life for the Circle, and I owe you a debt of equal value for that."

"None of you owe me anything." my warden spoke, her eyes anywhere but on ours. "If you feel you must repay what little kindness I have been able to spare, give it to another who has known little compassion. That is all I ask." at last, her eyes lifted, as I had known they would, to me.

"Leli?" she rasped.

"Never again, my love." I placed my left hand over my heart, letting her see that I still wore the signet ring of House Cousland, a promise that would never be fulfilled…a bride that would never be. "I swore I would never leave you again."

"I will not hold you to it." Salem whispered, ever noble, ever beautiful.

"Still your lips, wench." I surprised her by stepping forward and ghosting her lips with a kiss. "Let us go and slay a dragon."


	19. Chapter 19

**Salem**

We crept up the narrow stairways, the sole light that guided us emanating from Wynne's staff. My heart beat ever faster as we climbed upward, towards the roof that the Archdemon had made its stronghold. I gripped my swords in shaking hands, trying to control the urge to run towards my enemy and my future.

Eamon had arrived and that meant…_No. I must not hope too far. There is no guarantee…_

I heard the darkspawn scuttling in the body of the fort, tearing apart furniture and barricading doors, making this place into an even more haphazard fortress, so that all who besieged it would be certain to meet their end.

_But not us. Not today. There is such a short distance yet to go. A short distance that spans into eternity. _

I glanced back at those who followed me, all of them bore wounds from this final battle. I whispered a prayer in my thoughts, asking that they know no more damage than already suffered, that the Archdemon would seek my blood alone—spill my blood alone.

_They deserve a life free from new scars. Wynne must return to the Circle. There is much for her yet to do, even though she may live on borrowed time. Sten has a mission to fulfill, redemption to seek, even after my quest has ended. Burrow deserves a life at a kind master's side, ever on the hunt, a life of blissful peace. And Leliana…you deserve all the beauty I could never give you. A life filled with music, song, dance…all the things that I am not. _

My lover's eyes met mine and softened as she read the expression on my face. She shook her head, as though she had read my thoughts and found them ridiculous. And her smile…radiant as the sun, content in the sky, singing that there was nowhere it would rather be.

_Maker, you have blessed me, if only for the breath of a moment. If I am to meet you today, I will thank you for this…but I ask, selfishly, that if I am called to your side, let me watch over her. So that she might know peace. So that she will not chain herself to my memory and prevent herself from ever knowing joy again. Her life began in shadows, a nameless song, a faceless tale. She deserves so much more than merely that. _

The stairs opened out onto the second level of the tower. I could sense the darkspawn, more than we could easily defeat in such small quarters. Two hurlocks guarded the entryway into the next staircase. They would have to be eliminated…without drawing attention to us.

I leaned against the wall, examining the walls that surrounded me and my companions. There would not be enough room for Leliana to draw her bow, and the door guards were heavily armored…a thrown dagger would be out of the question. Wynne's magic was not silent, and darkspawn had keen noses. The air was thick with blood already, but they would scent magic in the air the moment she cast it.

_No choice but to handle this myself. _

"Stay back." I ordered as I edged out of the corridor, lifting my hand to stay those who would follow.

Sten's hand went to Burrow's collar and the mabari whined as he saw me go into danger without him. I walked to the darkspawn, wishing I had paid more attention to my mother's constant lectures on how a lady must comport herself.

_With dignity, and grace, as though she floats on a wisp of wind. A silent entrance and unobtrusive exit is the mark of a true gentlewoman. _

I had failed those lessons, as I had failed in everything my mother had attempted to teach me. Needlework, singing, dancing…the culinary arts. I was my father's daughter, bred for battle, built of steel and earth and all in the world that was harsh and unyielding.

Sacrificing speed for stealth, I edged along the wall, downwind of the darkspawn, who could not sense that the taint in my blood was different from their own. I edged the tip of my sword in between the plates of the hurlock's armor, thrusting the blade though its body, feeling the blade catch and stop at the chestplate.

Ice fired through my body, heating to fire as I felt serrated metal grate into my skin, against the bone of my hip. My eyes went wide with pain…_there was a third in the shadows! _I realized, too late.

I grabbed the genlock's hand attached to its knife and spun it in front of me, into the other hurlock door guard. My other sword pierced the leather of the genlock's gorget, upwards and out of its body, into the hurlock's neck. Both fell, the noises obscured by those made by the still living darkspawn.

I staggered into the next stairway, breathing heavily, feeling sweat begin to bead on my forehead. Leliana's hands were anxious against my arms as she joined me, followed closely by the others. Burrow, whose nose could distinguish between my blood and the darkspawn's, whimpered.

"Salem," Leliana hissed, and I winced as her hands brushed the hilt of the knife, "Salem, what happened?"

"I'm all right." I guided her hands away, gripping them in my own. "I'm all right."

Her eyes held disbelief, doubt, fear…fear that I could not afford her to feel. I reached behind me, gripped the hilt of the knife, and pulled it from my body, biting my lip so that I did not cry out. I glanced at the blade from the corner of my eye, sighing in relief. It was neither long, nor wide, just wickedly edged.

I slipped the knife into my belt, hiding it from the others, from Leliana. They did not need to see. I had to be strong, to force myself onward. We had no time to rest, no time to heal, no time to do anything but take out the enemy before us.

"Genlock in the shadows," I explained, hasty, "caught me off guard."

"Are you hurt?" Leliana pressed, our time together having taught her that on this one issue I would be less than honest.

"No." I lied. "Simply taken by surprise."

Her eyes slanted, but in the dim light of Wynne's staff, she could see nothing that could prove otherwise.

"Leli," I whispered, thinking this might be the last time we spoke to each other, "I love you."

She turned to me and there were tears in her eyes, tears that she would never let fall. "I love you too, my warden."

"Then trust me." I quirked my lips in a half-smile.

She slipped her hand into mine and we continued ascending the stairs. The next door we opened would spill out onto the roof of Fort Drakon. The Archdemon would be waiting. I could sense its song, its spirit. I could sense its thirst for warden blood.


	20. Chapter 20

**Leliana**

I watched Salem ascend the stairs, the normal fluidity of her movements gone. Something had happened in the stairway, something that she would not tell me.

_Or is it that she could not? Maker's breath, surely she is not yet further injured. Is it not enough that she must slay the Archdemon, must she also be half-dead before an enemy twice her strength? Could not some god grant her a death with her body intact? Andraste was given the mercy of the flames, charred to ash. Salem is this Age's savior. Why now does the Maker demand blood?_

My warden seemed to split the stream of time as she journeyed further towards her fate. I turned my eyes side to side, watching as the world seemingly accelerated, splitting from us and catapulting me into a world where the dreams I had possessed were long since spent and turned to dust.

I reached out, grasping Salem's hand, to anchor myself in the time moving slowly, the time when I could feel her skin, lose myself in her eyes, anchor my soul in her strength. All too soon, the stairway widened, and the doors to the roof stood before us.

Salem paused, and I clenched my jaw, not wishing to hear another speech about how she would let us go our separate ways if we so desired.

_I know it is not doubt that drives you to say these things, my warden. I know it is love, and yet my heart rips open every time you speak of such matters. In every heart there beats a darkness. I have touched the center of my own, the days and nights I wished Marjolaine dead, even when I lived only for her affection. You stole that darkness from me, Salem; you folded it into your light and made me forget. Forget the vision, forget the pain, forget the memories that haunt. Please, my __**love**__, do not stand before us and question our devotion. We are yours. I do not believe we ever had a choice._

Salem stopped, glancing at the door. She turned to the qunari and senior enchanter. "May I beg your indulgence for a moment alone?" she asked, sounding younger than I had ever heard her.

Wynne and the qunari nodded, waiting beside the door, leaving Salem and me alone, as much as we could be.

My warden looked at me, and there was light in her eyes, and there was hope, and neither had any place there. "I could stand here forever." she whispered, reaching out, tangling her fingers in my already tousled hair. "On the edge of eternity, just gazing at you. No need of food or drink, for love is all that sustains. In a better world…" her voice broke.

I clenched my hand into a fist, feeling the weight of her ring…my ring. Her gift to me, her promise…an inanimate piece of silver that I would wear for the rest of my days. "In a better world, we would not be here." I bit the words as they left my lips.

"None of that." Salem guided me closer to her, placing her forehead against my own. "Make me a promise, Leliana."

_Anything_, my thoughts were choked with tears_, anything you ask, I will give. _"Wha…what would you ask of me?"

Her smile ignited the room and my heart fluttered in my chest like that of a giddy schoolgirl. As though this feeling were new. "Sing again." she breathed. "Dance again. Write music, quote poetry, tell tales. Live the life for which you were meant, and do not weep for me."

"No." I felt a hand around my throat as Salem stripped me bare and held my soul before me. It shivered in her hands, intangible, thin and paper light, able to be rent apart with a breath. "No, Salem…you cannot ask this of me. Anything else, I will give. Anything but _that_. I…I cannot return to that life."

_I never wish to heal from you. To ask me to do these things is to ask me to leave you behind, to lock you in my memory…to let you, every part of you…die. __**No**__._

"I can ask it of you, and I am." Salem pressed her lips to my forehead…in Orlais it was a kiss that signified protection, a deeper love than any other. "I love you, Leliana…the way your eyes shine, even when they glitter with frozen tears from grief long dead. I love your smile, even when it is reluctantly given. Your laughter is like sunrise, a blanket of peace spread across my soul. To extinguish such a light out of grief…grief for someone as undeserving as I…it is criminal, dear heart."

Tears, tears I had never wanted to shed spilled over my eyes and down my cheeks, chasing away the dirt, the grime, the blood.

"Salem," I wrapped my arms around her in a frantic embrace, clinging to her as I had never been able to cling to any other. "If ever you once lacked for words, that time is ended. Speak no more. Please, my heart is breaking."

"Let it break then." her breath warmed my neck. "Let it break while I may yet gather the pieces."

"This is not fair." I wept, unable to keep my shoulders from shaking as my body felt grief and fear vie to tear it apart. "This is not how the stories play out. These words are shared after the battle…after the war. This isn't as it should be, Salem…it's _not __**right**_!"

"No, it isn't." Salem pulled me tighter. "But it is what we have been given. This moment. Each other. This is no legend; it is real and it is painful and it is everything that I have ever dreaded coming to fruition. But I am willing to forgive fate, if you promise me that you can do the same."

_I am willing to die…_I translated her words in my own mind…_if you promise me that you will continue on. _

Before the Landsmeet, she had told me that her life was simple. _You live, I live_…_that is the entirety of it. _

"As you say, my love."

_I promise. Though it may be years in coming, I will sing again. I will dance again. I live, you live; you live, I live. As long as one of us remains alive, the other will never truly die. This is what she has realized. This is a tale unlike any other, my love. _

_ Whether or not you perish, Salem…you have discovered immortality. _

Salem led me out of the stairwell and laid her hands against the door. "Forward," she spoke to us all, "into dark eternity," she glanced back at me and her eyes were gleaming like the stars, "never forsaking love."

She pushed open the doors and walked to greet the enemy whose death would be hers as well. I lifted my hands to take up my bow…for the last time. Red caught my vision and I stared at my hand, trembling as I saw it for what it was. Blood…Salem's blood...the painful price we would be forced to pay for the safety of the world.


	21. Chapter 21

**Salem**

_This is it. The finale. The end. Only…when the curtain falls, there will be no applause. All of the actors who began this play will not return to the stage. This is the moment of truth. _

I set my hands against the doors and breathed deeply, ignoring the pain from my hip, the worried gaze of my mage-mother, the terrified hurt in my lover's eyes. Sten moved to the doors, intending to aid me in their opening. I shook my head and the qunari backed away.

_This is my fight. It always has been. From the beginning. When I first drank from the goblet of tainted blood, I knew. I have been blessed, I have been cursed, I have been loved. I have been given everything I need._

I pushed the doors open, stepping onto the roof of Fort Drakon. The Archdemon whirled and bared its fangs, sensing my presence, sensing that the great battle, ever fought between god and man, was about to begin.

I walked, slow, gripping my swords, evening my breathing, calming the pounding of my heart. The rooftop defenses had not yet been destroyed; ballistae were aimed into the streets of Denerim, a safeguard against Fort Drakon being once more besieged.

"Leliana, get to a ballista. They're our best chance of killing it. Wynne, cover her. Sten, with me."

They nodded, as they had ever done; never questioning an order. _How will the Maker reward them,_ I wondered. _Riches…long life…ignominy? Who can say?_

Leliana ran towards one of the outcroppings of the roof, up the stairs that led to the weapon's platform. Wynne followed after her, and the Archdemon took no notice. They were not its focus. They could not end its life. I could, and thus its horrible, vacant eyes glared down at me.

"Warden," Sten spoke, "from the towers. The Archdemon is calling its thralls."

I gazed to the other areas of entry, watching hurlocks and genlocks rush through the doors, coming to their master's summons.

"Burrow, Sten," my orders changed, "keep them off of Wynne and Leliana."

"And who will protect you, warden?" the qunari asked.

"Don't waste your time with me." I shook my head and faced the Archdemon once more. "I died the moment I opened those doors. Your concern is for the living now."

Sten grunted, saying nothing, but he grasped Burrow about the collar and got to Wynne and Leliana before the darkspawn surrounded them. My mabari yipped and howled and fought, not understanding…not understanding that his master was dead, and that he could not remain by my side as he had since his eyes first opened.

_Stay with Leliana, Burrow. She will care for you. Love her as you loved me. Protect her as you protected me. _

Blue flames shot from the Archdemon's mouth, sweeping over me with a scorching heat that I could not feel. The dragon's blood scarring on my hand and back protected me, covering me in a halo of flames that no other fire could penetrate. Pain spiraled down my hip and my armor felt as though it weighed more than I could carry.

The Archdemon roared its frustration and stamped its taloned claw. The roof shook and the stones cracked beneath its feet. From the corner of my eye, I watched as Leliana and Sten fought to adjust the ballista, while Wynne's barriers and lightning kept the gathering darkspawn at bay.

I began running, determination fueling my tired, scarred body. Let the Archdemon flute and trumpet its rage and fury. I would remain silent. I would fear nothing.

The giant, glistening fangs snapped at me and I dodged, hacking at the creature's neck. The blade was deflected by the hardened scales and I spun away as the Archdemon curved its neck in and attempted to break my body with its teeth once more.

I fell as my boot caught in the cracked stone, watching as the jaws closed right where I had been. I winced and struggled to move, propping myself up on my elbows and propelling myself backwards with my feet, through the Archdemon's legs.

The giant dragon above me shuddered and I heard a sickening, wet impact as a ballista arrow embedded itself in the demon's side. The beast's knees dropped and with a powerful sweep of its wings, it took flight.

A powerful shockwave split the stone yet further and I heard the ground beneath me crack. Pain shrieked through my hip as I dragged myself to my feet.

The Archdemon perched on another roof, howling in fury, unassailable by ground forces. I watched Leliana screaming at Sten, fighting to reposition the ballista. Wynne's barrier fell as the darkspawn hammered on it.

The Archdemon whipped around and grasped the missile between its teeth, wrenching the giant arrow from its side. Blood poured from its flank, melting the building beneath it. I watched in horror as the wound knitted and the scales grew again, slowly, but I did not doubt my eyes.

"Salem!" Leliana cried, firing arrows into the horde that surrounded them. They were blocked in…nowhere to go but to fall into the city streets, and the darkspawn outnumbered us. I raced for them, flinching as the Archdemon screamed again, its song boring into my ears and beating behind my brain.

I lifted my swords, slashing with wild abandon at the darkspawn that attacked my friends. The blades that Leliana had forged for me sliced through the darkspawn's crude, hastily constructed armor, into their rotting flesh, unmarked by their tainted blood.

I ignored the aching muscles in my shoulder and back as my body struggled against my enemy and the armor that protected me. I lopped off a genlock's head as I fought my way up the stairs, towards Leliana.

_You have to live. _The thoughts rang louder in my ears than the Archdemon's cries. _That is all that matters to me._

Sten twisted the ballista as I ascended the stairs, corpses falling in my wake. Leliana stared at me, open-mouthed, as though I had become a different person.

_Those who await death have nothing to fear, dear heart. I am unafraid. As long as you are living, I am unafraid. _

"Are you all right?" I flipped my blade in my hand, plunging it backwards into a hurlock's gut.

"Well enough," she stared at me in awe. My gaze moved past her, to the Archdemon, who had mended its wound and begun to flex its massive wings. A shadow fell across the sun, beginning to darken the sky.

The sound of bowstrings stretched taut met my ears. "Cover!" I shouted.

Wynne shielded herself and Sten ducked behind the ballista, but Leliana stood too far from the mage, too far from protection. I ran to her and pulled her into my arms, against my body, dropping to my knees as I felt bolts embed themselves in my armor. One slipped between the plates, burying itself in my shoulder, the metal tip scraping against my bone.

I gritted my teeth and held my lover until the barrage had passed. "Take them down." I told her, rising to my feet as the Archdemon thundered a battle cry and took to the air, landing gracefully on the roof of Fort Drakon once more, wreathed in blue fire.

"I love you." she whispered, sliding to her feet and drawing her bow in a smooth, poetic motion that always made my heart race.

Wynne's magic flared out, lightning slitting the throats of enemies as I descended the stairs and clawed my way to the Archdemon.

_It can heal itself with unnatural expedience. It might possess a dragon's weak points, but I have no way of knowing. I will have to take its head…to be certain._


	22. Chapter 22

**Leliana**

The wood of my bow creaked dangerously as I abused it, firing arrow after arrow into gathering throngs of archers and darkspawn mages. My body operated away from the control of my mind. All conscious thought had left me when Salem took me in her arms, as her body shuddered at the impacts from darkspawn bolts.

Then…when the Archdemon had shrieked and returned to Fort Drakon…Salem had pulled away from me, turned her back, and gone to face her foe. At that moment, all thought had departed, gone with the sight of blood creeping down her armor; the bolt embedded in her back…that she had been struck and not winced, not cried out in pain, not wavered. As though she had become more than human. As though she were someone who could face down an ancient god…and not fall.

_And then there was the blood on my hand_, I fired another arrow into the hurlock that Burrow had borne to the ground, smiling in grim triumph as it ceased its struggles and freed the mabari to attack another opponent. _It would be one thing to lose her in a grand gesture, a heroic moment, as in the tales. But to see her ripped apart, little by little, shard of skin after shard of skin…it is worse than torture. _

"Keep your head, songstress!" Sten barked and I tumbled into my body once more.

I shook my head, tapping my cheek on the raven fletchings of my darkspawn arrow. The slight brush of feathers against my skin weakened my resolve, making me remember.

_Her touch…callused fingers, hardened palms…Marjolaine's were dainty, soft, kept gentle by gloves that never let blood touch her hands. Salem has allowed everything to mark her…but her caress was never dishonest, and her hands could never lie. **Was**…**could**…already I think of her in the past tense…reciting my memories of her as a bard would. As though she were long dead. _

"Leliana!" Wynne shrieked.

I gazed at the mage, whose outstretched fingers pointed towards Salem, to the darkspawn that horde that surrounded the Archdemon, defending their master.

I re-directed my bow, forcing myself to watch my lover dodge the strikes of the enemies that outnumbered her and possessed twice her strength. I loosed my arrow and pulled another, watching as my missile struck true.

Salem kept fighting, ignoring the enemies near her that I felled, not sparing a moment, as though she were acting in a play…_as though she were already dead_.

The creaking of gears echoed in my hearing as Sten pulled back on the ballista and loaded another arrow against the taut cable.

He turned the massive war machine as though it were a child's toy, aiming for the Archdemon. We had already seen that it would be to no avail, that the creature could heal itself with unnatural power and speed. We were helpless against something of such majesty and might.

_How can Salem even dream of killing this thing_? I wondered. _I have witnessed her slay a dragon, twice…but this is beyond any of that. This is a god in dragon form. _My own hope faltered.

I reached back for another arrow, finding that I had none. Frustrated, I flung the empty quiver from my back, set my bow in its place, and drew my daggers.

Sten fired the ballista and my heart leapt as I heard the Archdemon wail in fury, watching as it lashed out with its massive, spiked tail. I flinched, remembering the damage such a thing could do…seeing Morrigan's body ripped open, her bones bared to the cold in fragmented pieces.

_Salem!_

Frantic, I searched for her, the gleam of her armor, the proud set of her shoulders. I could not find her, the mass of darkspawn was so thick, the Archdemon battering its wings in rage and pain. I dashed down the steps, running for Salem; Burrow joined me, charging enemies as they approached.

I lashed out with my daggers, cutting into rotting flesh, spilling tainted blood, stopping the beat of darkened hearts. The distance seemed to great to cut across, too far…farther away from me than death's yawning chasm could take her.

I scooped up the quiver of a fallen archer and slung it across my back, jumping over the bodies of the fallen. The Archdemon roared into the sky and balls of blue flame jetted from its throat, raining onto the stone, searing, melting whatever it came into contact with, be it stone, darkspawn, or human.

I dodged the falling gouts of flame, taking advantage of the occupied Archdemon and the bewildered darkspawn, who could not seem to comprehend the actions their master had taken, eradicating allies in an attempt to reach enemies.

"Salem!" I did not care if it heard my cry; I did not care if those massive teeth broke through my armor and into my skin.

_At least we could be together, one last time, in death, before even eternity called for us to part ways. _

"Salem!" I called again, begging for an answer, a whisper, a groan…anything.

_Anything at all. _

A hurlock confronted me, bringing his sword down in an overhead strike. I sidestepped and chills ran down my spine as its blade grated against the stone. It took two quick strikes to bring it to the ground and I stepped over its corpse, keeping a careful eye on the Archdemon, whose teeth grasped at the second giant arrow we had impaled it with.

"Leli, no!" strong arms grasped me and pulled me away as the Archdemon's head swung back around, the arrow too deeply embedded for it to remove.

Salem bore me to the ground, covering my body with her own once more as her hands pressed over my ears.

The Archdemon roared directly above us and the sound shuddered through my body, pain firing into my skull as the noise pierced even my covered ears.

The weight of plate armor rolled away from me and Salem lay on the stone as Burrow darted forth and back in front of the Archdemon, barking as though he were rabid, drawing the demon's attention away from us.

"Salem," I rolled to my knees, looking into my lover's hazy eyes.

Blood streamed from her left ear, matting her dark hair to her face.

_That roar…so loud, so powerful…she covered my ears, just as she protected my body from the arrows. My presence here is only causing you more pain, more injury, weakening you against the enemy we face. I should have remained with Alistair at the gates of the city. I should have known better than to think that I could be of help here. _

"I'm all right." she lied, as she always had, as she always would, until her dying breath. She smiled and it was strained. "Better now."


	23. Chapter 23

**Salem**

I dragged myself to my feet, reeling. My skull felt as though someone had plunged a red hot poker through it. Burrow's furious barks echoed in my hearing, dim, far away. I touched my fingers against my ear, watching as they came away red.

Leliana stood beside me, her eyes filled with worry, even though we could not spare time for such things. I rested my hand on her shoulder before I knelt to pick up my fallen sword.

_I cannot feel my left arm. I have been partially deafened. The only hope I have is that the Archdemon is not able to wrest the ballista arrow from its body. It may weaken it enough to…enough so that I can kill it._

"Leliana, get back to the others." I told her, for the first time not desiring her by my side.

_It is too dangerous here. I cannot lose you, Leliana. I __**will not**__ lose you. Not when…never mind. _

"Salem, you..." she spoke, so low I was forced to read her lips.

"Go!" I shouted as it became clear that Burrow's distraction efforts were no longer working.

The Archdemon snapped at me and my bard rolled away from its teeth, casting one sorrowful look my way as she returned to the safety of the others. She fired arrows into the gathering throng around the ballista, caring for us all, as she had done since Lothering.

_You, my beautiful Leliana…you cared for our souls, finding our strengths and bringing them tonight. You made me smile again…after I had lost everything, you gave me hope that there could be more to life than loss. You have given me so much joy; I am sorry that I can bring you nothing but sorrow. _

I ducked behind the Archdemon's leg as its teeth came for me again. I swept my sword across the bend of its knee, standing aside as its thick, corrosive blood spurted from the wound, leaving my swords untouched, as Leliana had promised.

The Archdemon's talons ripped backwards, curved tips catching my chestplate, shredding through the metal as though it did not exist. I landed against the beast's back leg, ripping at the straps of my armor as the now sheared edges cut small furrows into my skin. The dragon shifted as my chestplate fell away and I staggered to my feet, relieved at the lack of heavy armor weighing me down.

The dragon rose on its hind legs and roared into the air, crashing down again and I speared my blades into its underbelly, cringing as the blood that wound not touch my swords slid along the magic's guard and rushed over both of my hands, down my arms, scouring away the armor and the skin. I gritted my teeth and pressed the attack, driving my swords forward as the Archdemon staggered again, pierced by another ballista arrow.

The demon screamed, intensifying the pounding in my head, causing my entire body to tremble with pain. I wrenched my blades, wincing as they grated on the scales, burning as its blood spattered across my body.

I staggered out from under the Archdemon, watching its massive neck swerve to wrest the bolt from its skin.

Its body trembled as its blood dripped onto the stone, as the creature that thought itself a god entered the realm of humanity. A world of nothing but pain. A world that it could never hope to comprehend.

_And if you cannot comprehend such a thing, then you cannot rule it. You have no place here. If I must die to see your would-be reign brought to an end, then __**So. Be. It.**_

The giant teeth enclosed on the shaft of the ballista arrow and I struck upwards, into the Archdemon's neck, piercing the fire gland…one of the few known weak points of a dragon. Scorching, acidic blood rained down and I withdrew my blade as the Archdemon whipped its head around, knocking me off of my feet and onto the stone.

The Archdemon thrashed wildly, crushing its darkspawn allies. The stone of Fort Drakon shifted beneath me as I got to my feet. Burrow howled and I looked up, watching as more darkspawn flooded the roof of the tower. The mabari barked again and I glanced towards the Archdemon, feeling nothing as its tail connected with my chest…

I heard something crack as my feet left the earth and my back connected with the stone, my armor skidding across it until I came to rest at the edge of the forts defenses. The streets of Denerim lay below me, soaked with the blood of darkspawn and mortals.

I lay there, too stunned to move, feeling the Archdemon's blood eat away at my skin. My shoulder ached and my chest felt heavier than it had in Howe's dungeons. Black danced in front of my eyes as the sun winked out of existence.

I forced myself to look up, to move my myself into something that resembled a sitting position. Every part of my body ached and I heard the grunts of the darkspawn and, through blurry vision, saw my enemies running towards me as the top of Fort Drakon bloomed into black-edged blue fire.

I reached for my swords, but I had lost my grip on them when the Archdemon struck me. I dragged myself to my feet, feeling weaker on my feet than I ever had before.

_Chances stand that I am badly injured…and I do not even know if the Archdemon is wounded. Maker, please…please let this be ended soon. I can endure no more. _

A hurlock rushed up to me, a broken sword in its hand. He swiped out at me and I dodged, wincing as the weight in my chest threatened to crush me. The hurlock corrected his attack and the broken sword cut deep into my right thigh. The creature pulled it out and prepared to strike again. I splashed down to my knees and waited for the sheared blade to cut into my neck.

Twin daggers protruded from the hurlock's chest and he fell with a gargling cry. Leliana stood there, an unnatural halo of light surrounding her. She looked like Andraste, golden and radiant, fierce and pure, gazing at me in wonder, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"You…you're alive." she breathed, kneeling beside me, allowing me to see the collapsed form of the Archdemon.

I could say nothing; breathing took what little strength I still had left. Leliana's hand took mine and I winced as the burned flesh protested. I stared at my fallen foe, daring myself to believe my eyes.

_Could it be? Could it be that this battle is at last over, and by some divine grace, I have survived? _

Fear gripped my heart as I saw the Archdemon move, lifting its head, spreading more blood across the ground.

"It's…not…over." I whispered, accepting the truth.

I should have known. I should have realized that this could only end in one way. Leliana turned her face from me and to the Archdemon, her face paling as she watched the creature struggle.

"No." one word…one word that held all fear, all loathing…a hatred so deep that there was no world in which it could possibly exist. "Salem, no."

"I must." I forced myself to my feet and stumbled to a group of corpses, wresting a two-handed blade from the life it had ended.

I looked back at Leliana…one last time. Her bright blue eyes were wide with terror, hope slaughtered by the most brutal of circumstances.

"I love you." I whispered, lifting the sword and walking to the Archdemon, ignoring my injuries, ignoring the spinning of the world. I was accompanied by Wynne's magic, Sten's blade, Burrow's teeth, and the arrows of the Nightingale. They protected me as I approached the Archdemon and readied myself to strike the blow…

_The. Final. Blow._


	24. Chapter 24

**Leliana**

I continued firing, even though my eyes blurred with tears, obscuring my aim. My heart sounded like a dead thing in my chest, as though some cruel god had replaced breathing flesh with cracking glass. Salem walked to the Archdemon's still living body, dragging that massive sword behind her, stalwart in her resolve.

_And thus the hero goes to her death, her final words a proclamation of love. Let the gods above rip open the skies in chorus; a heartrending crescendo of loss, for they have taken a song most beautiful, and replaced it with silence. _

The world seemed to fall still as Salem reached the Archdemon. I fitted two arrows to my bowstring and fired them, felling the shrieks that lumbered after the woman who would save Thedas. My Salem. My hope. My love. My promise of peace.

_Ferelden's most beautiful daughter. Thedas' truest knight. The sole person who will ever carry my soul. I may never have wished to love again, but I am grateful that I did. So…_there were more tears now, tears that were meant to be shed in her arms as the world collapsed around us. _So that I would know the true light that resides in the human spirit. That I may witness its beauty…for I have already seen that it is cruel._

_ Oh, Maker_, the Divine's letter burned against my chest, where I had carried it since its receipt. _You sent me that vision…not only so that I could aid in preserving this land, but so that I could enter your service, having seen the purity that still exists in this world. That Salem Cousland might change me, might give me her heart…a heart that does not belong in any human hand._

I ran closer and nocked another arrow, coming to stand by Wynne and the qunari, who had taken a defensive posture. The mage's face was taut with exhaustion and white with worry. Her eyes shone with fear and grief, as though she watched her own child go against all the forces of the abyss.

Sten laid a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him, wondering at the show of compassion from such a man, if one could call him a man.

"This is a good death." he spoke, a note of approval at last in his voice.

_**No! It is not!**_ my heart shrieked. _If men were gods death would not haunt this world. I know what you are saying Sten, and I thank you for honoring her, but…but This. Is. __**Wrong!**_

"We have more to worry about than what may be." Wynne spoke, bringing both of our eyes to the darkspawn that rushed us, still intent on slaughter, still bound to the will of the Archdemon.

I let my arrow fly, watched as it struck true, and reached for another. My body shuddered and I heard the sickening sound of leather punched through. Wynne turned to look at me and she threw up a sheet of protective magic as Sten charged forward into the attacking throng, Burrow at his heels.

I nocked the second arrow as Wynne came closer to me.

_Turning her back to the enemy…why would she do that?_ I wondered.

My arrow flew through her barrier and my bow snapped in half with a sickening crack. Wynne reached me and dropped her staff, hands reaching out for me as my now useless weapon clattered against the stone of the roof.

"Leliana," I scarcely heard the senior enchanter's voice, so mesmerized was I by the figure of my warden.

Salem stood above the Archdemon, sword held high in her trembling arms. She brought the blade down and a beam of white light erupted, bringing with it a shrilling cry that resounded in our ears and caused the earth to tremble.

I felt myself fall backwards, cushioned in Wynne's arms. Sten and Burrow ceased fighting, as did the darkspawn, all of them looking towards the pillar of light that threatened to blind us all. The Archdemon roared and Salem brought the sword down again, severing its head from its body. The blinding glare coalesced and gathered into itself, erupting in a wave that knocked all off of their feet.

"_**Salem!**_" I screamed my lover's name as I watched her body flung away, against the unforgiving stone parapets of Fort Drakon.

"Leliana, _be __**still**_!" Wynne ordered, but I did not listen, struggling away from her, even though every moment caused pain to shatter through my chest.

"_**Let. Me. Go!**_" I shrieked, thrashing until I felt Wynne's magic coil around me, holding me motionless.

"Leliana, you've been shot." the healer informed, me, grim. "The arrow is perilously close to your lung."

"I don't care!" I sobbed, struggling against the magic. "Wynne, I have to go to her, _I have to!_**"**

Wynne's eyes were soft as her gore covered hand stroked through my hair. Her concern was for the living…and Salem was…_no. I will __**not**__ believe it! Not until my vision is fulfilled! Not until I touch her skin and see the life gone from her eyes! She can't be dead! She __**can't!**_

"The darkspawn are retreating." Sten came to us. "The warden has prevailed."

I looked down at my body, feeling my stomach turn as I saw the arrows embedded there, one in my chest, on the right side, the other in my left thigh.

"We need to get Leliana to a healer." Wynne spoke.

"Take me to Salem." my voice shook, but I did not care. "I do not care if it _kills_ me."

"Leliana," Wynne spoke again, her voice too gentle, too kind, to filled with sense.

"No." Sten set his sword aside and slipped his massive arms beneath my legs and under my shoulders. "Let the living bury their dead, Mistress Wynne."

I looked through blurring vision as the darkspawn ran rampant in the chaos, no longer united under a single voice. The shadow over the sun moved away and the cruel light of day shone down on them, confusing them yet further. It was a rout. It was an utter, complete, victory.

_And yet I have lost this war_. I felt tears in my eyes as pain gnawed at my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The qunari carried me over to Salem's body. She lay against the walls of the roof as though in repose. Bile rose in my throat as I saw the bone of her right leg broken and protruding from the skin. Her shirt was burned away in several places, the skin beneath it red and angry and scorched.

Sten set me down beside her and I crawled the last few feet, every movement agonizing and dulled…dulled by the screaming in my heart. It was exactly as I had foreseen it.

Her eyes were open, fixed on a horizon that I had never before seen, a sunrise in a land of peace, where sorrow did not dwell. Her lips, even torn and bleeding, were fixed in a smile as she at last greeted those whom the cruel swords of enemies had torn from her.

I reached out and took her hand in mine. It was warm, letting me remember the fire of her touch, the conflagrations in her eyes, the brilliant light that had encompassed her life. I brought her burned, bloody knuckles to my lips as black danced at the edges of my vision.

"I love you, Salem Cousland." I whispered as breathing became more difficult. "Go into the Maker's grace…"

I paused as the hand I was holding squeezed mine. Hope spiraled into my heart…fell as I realized it was nothing more than a muscle spasm.

"Don't leave me." I begged, all thoughts of holy words forsaken.

I could not be the Nightingale, cold and impassive and shadowed in the face of death. I could not be the sister of the Chantry, spouting meaningless words meant to comfort the soul. I was Leliana, and I grieved. I was Leliana, and I was selfish. I was Leliana, and I _wanted her back._

"Please, Salem, _come back._"

Her eyes turned to mine…and the insufferable woman _winked._


	25. Chapter 25

**Salem**

_"Very well, witch." I walk to Morrigan, making certain that she looks into my eyes, sees the promise of death within. "I have my answer. And you may dislike what I am next to tell you."_

_Morrigan lifts an elegantly sculpted brow, daring me to surprise her, or worse, to keep my answer the same. "I did advise you against trying my patience, warden."_

_ I bite my lip and stare at the ground, thinking of her words. Thinking of Leliana. Her voice as it greets the sunrise, shrieks in battle…breaks with sorrow. In my mind's eye, I see the tears of grief on my lover's face, knowing that I have been their cause, more often than not._

_**I have the chance to save her from a life spent in mourning. I have the chance to…to broker a deal with a demon. For love. As my nameless ancestor did before me. Perhaps I am no better. Perhaps there is an inescapable darkness in all of our hearts.**_

_ "I will go to Alistair." I inform Morrigan, feeling my soul splinter. "And if he agrees, and if this ritual is done, then I warn you now, witch. If your child becomes something gravely unnatural, if at any time its existence is a threat to my country, I will seek it out, hunt it down, and kill it."_

_ Shock lights the woman's amber eyes and she gazes into the fire. "You are not to follow me, Salem." she whispers. "This is not how such things are managed. If I complete the final ritual, I will join you for the battle at Denerim, and when it is done, I will be on my way, and you __**will not**__ seek me out."_

_ I laugh, bitter and deep in my throat. "You may have no phylactery, Morrigan, but you have seen my determination. Do you really think you can remain hidden if I desire to find you?"_

_ "'Tis true that you are a formidable opponent, Salem, but this need not make us enemies. Consider this my final favor, and one for which I will ask no repayment."_

_ I rise from my seat and go to the door. The night will soon be done, and I wish to return to the comfort of my bed and the warm skin of the woman that I adore. The woman I will consort with hell to remain beside. _

_ "You cold-hearted bitch." I whisper. "You have manipulated me cruelly; we both know this for truth. Do not think you can contort your face into a mask against me any longer. I see the triumph in your eyes, and I feel as though I have stumbled into the gravest of traps."_

_ "You must still garner the buffoon's consent." Morrigan chides. "Perhaps you will depart this place with your soul unstained. If not, 'tis no loss for me."_

_**Nothing ever is, Morrigan. In all of this, you are the one of us who has sacrificed nothing. And now you offer to give up your body, to make yourself a vessel for the soul of a dead god and a child that I could never, should I live for an eternity, see you desiring…it does not bode well. **_

_** But I am tired of bleeding for others. I am tired of whoring myself to the world, letting them break off my flesh and embroider their names into my scars. At the end of the day, when faced with my mortality…I am weak. Fragile. Selfish.**_

**_Human._**

* * *

_"You want me to…" Alistair goes green, sick with the very thought. "Salem, I…she…how do I know there are no…__**teeth**__?"_

_ I want to laugh, but all mirth has fled from me. Instead, I fall to my knees, making no attempt to hide the tears that streak down my face. _

_ "Alistair, please." I beg him. "I know that this is distasteful, and I would find it equally so, but, I __**beg**__ you…"_

_ "Beg?" he asks. "Beg? Salem, there is no begging that can make this right. There is no defense…this is __**dark**__ magic. Before I was a warden, I was a templar, and…"_

_ "And you hated it." I inform him, trying to take this as far away from the realm of magic as possible. My mind is already aswirl with all the dark implications of this pact, this bond, this ritual. I know that it is evil; every time that it is mentioned my soul feels as though it is soaked in soot. _

_**If this does indeed transpire…then I will never be clean again. I will never greet the Maker. I will never see my father's face or my mother's smile. I will never hear Oren's voice raised in laughter…I will not know eternity in paradise. But I will have a life with her. I will be able to greet Leliana with the morning, listen to her songs, embrace her and lose myself in her until we become but one soul.**_

_** It is worth it. It **__**must be**__** worth it.**_

_ "I did hate it." Alistair admits. "But I hated dark magic as equally. I've seen the things it does to people, Salem. Power turns good men into vile men and Morrigan is…already vile. How could you even consider this?"_

_ "I am not precisely fond of the idea, Alistair." I sigh and bury my face in my hands. "I want to live. Is that a crime?" I look up at him through tear-stained eyes. "Is it a crime to wish to live?"_

_ He walks to me and rests his hand on my shoulder, sitting down. "I understand." he smiles, but there is worry behind it. "If you were Leliana, and I were you in this situation…I would do much the same. You can return to the witch and tell her that her ritual will be completed."_

_ Unable to speak, I fling my arms around him, pulling him tight to me. He returns the embrace, wishing that it could be more…knowing, as we both did, that it could not._

_**I know you do this because you love me, Alistair, and as more than a warden, more than a sister. I am sorry that I asked this of you…and I am even more ashamed that I am allowing you to consent. Maker, please forgive me. Please.**_

* * *

_I open the door and return to Morrigan's room, glaring at the witch. _

_ "Well?" she quirks her brow yet again. _

_ "He is waiting for you." I glare at the floor, unable to meet her acidic gaze._

_ "Then I shall not waste my time."_

_ "Morrigan," I stall her before she leaves, catching her arm, "is there…will this work?"_

_ "In truth," she sighs, "I am uncertain. The prerequisites have all been seen to, but at the end of the day, magic works as it will. I will need to be near you for this to work, at least at the edge of the city."_

_ "And if you die?" I ask._

_ "Should I fall, 'tis all for naught."_

_ "Then you will accompany Eamon. We have already agreed that his detachment will delay before departing Redcliffe. I will not risk your life, Morrigan. After the battle, you are free to go."_

_ "With your promise to find me still intact?" she glares at me, eating into my already shrieking heart._

_ "What do you think, witch?"_

_ "That you should be grateful and think of nothing but the life you will be able to live." she answers. "You will not regret this, Salem."_

_ She walks through the door and I lean against it, sliding to the floor. "I already do."_

_ After a moment I get to my feet, tracing my way back to the room that I share with Leliana. I enter as silently as I may, not wishing to wake her. I walk to the bed and touch her face, smoothing the lines of worry that crease it, even in slumber. _

_**I love you, Leliana. So much that the sanctity of my soul is forfeit. So much that I willingly break the laws of heaven and right. I have told you before that you are **__**everything**__** to me. That was never more true than it is now, in this moment. **_

_** Sleep well, dear heart. Sweet dreams.**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Leliana**

_"When morning comes, will this be ended?"_

_ Salem wraps her arms around me and I trace my fingertips over the blue scarring, my hand coming to a stop over the white knife-scar left by Cauthrien's anger. _

_ "Of course not, dear heart. I am here. With you. Always." her voice resonates against my ear, causing my heart to burn._

_ It is a pleasant sort of pain, one that I have become accustomed to during the months I have spent with Salem. It had begun the moment I first set eyes on her, deepening to a roar over the time we spent together. It threatened to consume me when I first saw tears come to her eyes. And now, I feel as though I will be lost without it._

_ "So…when I wake from this dream…you will still be with me?" I ask, feeling my throat tighten with tears._

_ "I promise." she whispers, and her lips whisper against my cheek. _

_ I press my body against hers, wanting to believe, praying to the Maker and whatever other god will listen. __**Let this be true. Heavens, hells, and angels, let this be true. **_

_ "Say it again." I beg._

_ "I promise, Mistress Leliana."_

_ "What?" I pull away from her, eyes wide at the title that she has never given me. _

_ "Mistress Leliana?" it is a question now, and I close my eyes against a sudden pain in my head._

* * *

"Mistress Leliana?" a voice from vague memories called to me.

Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to sit up; felt warm hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down against something…soft. A dull ache radiated through my body and I winced.

"You shouldn't move." the voice cautioned.

_Where do I know her from?_

"At least not until the healers have assessed you."

I dared to open my eyes, gritting my teeth as the torchlight burned them. "Where…" I glanced at my surroundings. A quiet room with walls in various states of disrepair, a window made by the impact of war machines, not a mason's hand. "…where am I?"

"One of the less destroyed rooms in Fort Drakon." the voice became a figure who moved into my vision.

I stared in shock at the visage of Shianni, the elven woman whom I had met twice in the Alienage. Her face bore a small assortment of cuts, her flame-red hair was in disarray, and exhaustion had stamped itself on her face.

"What happened?" I tried to move and she stopped me once more.

"Your warden saved us all." the elf smiled. "And she can consider this a repayment from the elves for preserving the Alienage. Never thought I'd see myself playing healer to a shem." she scoffed. "An Orlesian one at that."

"I am…grateful." I told her, hoping I sounded sincere.

_I remember Salem's eyes were open…she looked at me and then…nothing. There were arrows…I recall such pain._

"The qunari carried you out of Fort Drakon." Shianni explained. "You took an arrow to the chest and one to the leg. Darkspawn bolts too. Nasty things. Your mage friend had to cut them out with a knife." she winced at the thought. "After they patched you up I offered to stay with you…I won't owe Cousland a damn thing."

I smiled a little at the elf's ferocity and stretched the kinks out of my muscles, cringing as pain returned in a nauseating wave. "Thank you, Shianni." I whispered, trying to even my breathing. "Though Salem would tell you that you owe her nothing."

Her fiery brows rose in disbelief. "No shem is that damnably noble."

_Salem is._

"As you say." I closed my eyes, opening them again when I heard the door creak.

Wynne entered the room and alarm fired through me as I saw the worry in her blue eyes. She knelt beside me and Shianni backed away, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the mage.

_After all,_ I reasoned, _Wynne is a stranger. A shemlen who has never shown the elves kindness. Maker, I hope that we can begin to heal this rift between our races. It is a grievous sin that we have let this tragedy persist._

"Leliana…"

"Salem?" I interrupted, hating that tears sprang to my eyes at the mention of her name. "Is she…"

"That is why I am here." Wynne's voice was calm…too calm. "By some miracle, the warden still lives. However," her eyes looked directly into mine, an unnatural serenity in them, "you have been unconscious for eight candlemarks. Salem's condition…is critical."

Panic gripped my heart and I attempted to sit up, only for Wynne to force me back down. Her hands glowed blue and the lines in her face seemed more defined as the warmth of her magic numbed the pain that sliced across my nerves.

"Maker, forgive me." Wynne's spell ended and she hung her head, her loose white hair falling, sweaty and tangled, around her face. "Leliana, I am sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to come with me. The spell should keep your wounds from opening, but I warn you, it will not be pleasant."

"Anything." I could disregard the demands of my body, forego all sense and sensibilities, if it meant that I could aid Salem in some way.

Without further words, Wynne hoisted my arm across her shoulders and helped me stand. I bit the inside of my cheek as the room spun and the pain made my stomach churn. When she was certain that I was steady, we began to leave the room. I leaned heavily on the mage, as my injured leg would not take my weight.

"How…" I gasped, "…is she?"

"Her right leg was broken and her sternum cracked." Wynne's voice tremored as she strove to keep it cold and clinical. "Her left ear drum was ruptured. Both of her arms and her chest are grievously burned by the Archdemon's blood. Her skull is possibly fractured…she lost consciousness before the healers arrived and has remained so ever since. Due to her hereditary condition…we have been forced to be sparing in our use of magic. I cannot lie to you, Leliana…it is not likely that she will survive."

_No. __**No**__. Salem Cousland you __**will not**__ die! Not after all we have been through! Not after you brought an ancient god to judgment! I will enter eternity and __**drag you back**__, kicking and screaming if I must._

Wynne knocked at another door and it opened, a young mage nodding at Wynne and glaring at me. "Mistress Wynne," he spoke, voice quavering, "you, of course, may enter, but First Enchanter Irving said that none but the healers were allowed…"

"Get out of my way, young one." Wynne spoke in the most severe tone I had ever heard her use.

"But Mistress Wynne…"

"_I _will handle Irving." she used a puff of magic to sweep the door aside. "This is beyond your comprehension."

"But…"

Wynne ignored him, leading me to Salem. My heart broke as I gazed at my lover, staring at the blood-soaked bandages that seemed to cover her entire body. Her leg had been splinted, bound tight between two slats of board…obviously wreckage pulled from the city streets. Sweat matted hair surrounded her unnaturally pale face like an ominous halo.

"Mistress Wynne," the young mage persisted, "I don't see what good this will do…"

"Hush, child." Wynne spoke to him.

Gentle, the senior enchanter disentangled her body from mine and helped me kneel at Salem's bedside. I steadied myself, breathing shallowly, forcing my body to endure the hell I _knew_ Salem would go through for me…_had_…gone through for me.

The young mage, still concerned, edged closer.

"Salem." I took her hand, whispering her name as a prayer. "Come back to me, my love. I am waiting for you, we all…" I glanced to Wynne for confirmation; she nodded and my heart filled with joy, "we _all_ are waiting for you. Linger no longer, my love. Please. Come back to me."

"Her…her breathing has evened." the young mage seemed astounded. "And her temperature has dropped. Even our magic hasn't…Maker's breath. Mistress Wynne, what _is this_?"

I pressed Salem's hand to my cheek, soaking the bandaging with my tears, my body shuddering with pain as I sobbed.

Wynne's reply echoed dimly in my ears.

"This is ancient magic, child." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Older than the gods themselves…and far, far more powerful."


	27. Chapter 27

**Salem**

_"You've done nothing but stare at me in wonder since you came here." Eleanor Cousland speaks, a smile lying behind her eyes, warm and comforting. "Is something wrong?"_

_ I stand there, still stupefied, amazed that I am standing in front of Cousland Hall, body hale and hearty, undamaged, unscarred, unbroken. __**And my mother is here. She whose face I thought I would never gaze upon again is standing before me. **_

_ "Are you a dream?" I ask, finding my voice at last, wanting to run to her, embrace her, bleed tears onto her shoulders. _

_ She smiles and sits on the garden bench, patting the seat beside her in invitation. I sit down, admiring the sculpted topiaries and vivid flower gardens of my ancestral home. _

_**Roses. Mother always did love flowers with thorns…great beauty is never captured without danger and pain, she would say. If only you could see what beauty the Maker has given me. Leliana is a woman after your own heart, mother. I like to think…I like to think that you would approve of my choice.**_

_ "I am more than a dream; less than reality." Eleanor answers. _

_**More than a dream…**__fear pulses through me and my heart begins to race. If this is not the simple traipsing of my unconscious mind in the Fade, then what is it?_

_**…a white light…blinding pain…someone screaming out my name…an ancient god clawing at my soul, then fleeing as though summoned away by a greater power…Maker's fucking blood…**_

_ "Mother, am I…am I dead?" I question, turning to her and laying my hand on her arm…finding it solid, real._

**_ In all of my dreams, I have never been able to touch the ones I had lost. They were always cruel figments, bodies of smoke and vapors, sweet illusions of the life that once was mine. _**

_ "Not yet." she squeezes my hand. _

_**But…but I circumvented death. I DID the ritual; I MADE the mistake. I should be alive, breathing, holding Leliana in my arms and laughing at destiny and the dictates of magic. Why then, why am I here? **_

_ "Then what…"_

_ "Did you think the witch's ritual would magic away your wounds?" Eleanor asks, a gentle tease. "You fought a dragon, Salem, a creature of hideous ancient magic inhabited by the soul of an old god. Warden you may be, but your body is still human and still fragile. While you may have been spared the death that comes to all wardens who have felled an Archdemon, you still teeter over the brink of eternity."_

_ "If I am near death, then why are you with me? This is what I have desired, and something I would never have been given in light of…" I sigh, feeling my soul collapse inward, "…in light of the decisions I have made."_

_ "Oh, Salem." my mother wraps her arm about my shoulders and I sink into her embrace, needing her comfort, longing for her assurances. "The Maker chose a bride crafted of fire and passion, a woman who marched on the Tevinter Imperium and who perished in flames at the edicts of cruel magisters. Those who walk the earth have imagined Him as one who despises magic, that those born with it are cursed, and that any who choose its path are doomed to the abyss."_

_ "And?"_

_ "It is not so." she comforts me. "I fancied myself wise when I lived…when faced with the antics of my children these days, it would appear I was right, so grand are the deeds they have done. But I have gained so much more knowledge since then; things I wish the dead could forever impart to the living, as I have the freedom to do now."_

_ My heart catches in my throat. "What...things?"_

_ "Magic is neither good nor ill, in the Maker's eyes. The intent of its user is what matters. While the witch will be judged for the intent of her ritual, be it for selfless reasons or wicked schemes, the intent of your acceptance was not of evil make. You made your decision out of love."_

_ "But," I interrupt, not understanding, "…no. Mother, I chose to do it because __**I**__ did not wish to die. Because I __**selfishly**__ wanted to remain among the living…because…because…"_

_ "Salem," her hand strokes through my hair, "you must cease this judgment of self. It is good to question your decisions, to accept guilt when it is warranted, but you, my girl…you take it to an extreme. You need not crucify yourself for crimes you have not committed. In this matter, I guarantee, you are the only one who condemns your actions."_

_**Leliana…would say the same. But…I do not know how else to be. Perhaps this is what my mother, and my bard, have been trying to teach me. How to change. How to live free from doubt. **_

_"Doubt is fear," Eleanor speaks, wisdom ringing from her voice, "and fear is love's greatest enemy. You have never doubted your love for the Orlesian bard, Salem. And this decision, that ritual, was completed because of your wish to continue to love. Love is the Maker's very essence. The Chantry will alter the Chant, interpret in ways that suit their needs, but all you need to know, my girl, is that if you act out of the purity of love, the Maker will always smile upon you."_

_**Then I am…not damned? If I die, I can return with my mother, see my father's face, swing my nephew in my arms? I can look down on the world and know no pain, remember no wounds, be free of my scars? **_

_"Mother, I'm afraid." I admit, words I have not spoken to her since I was a very small child._

_ "What do you fear?" she asks._

_ "The world I will return to. That I will be so broken…" __**so broken I am no longer beautiful in her eyes. **_

_ My mother pulls an impeccable handkerchief from her sleeve and wipes my tears away with a caring hand. "You do not have to return." she smiles. "You have succeeded in your quest; your country and your king are safe. You would be at peace here, Salem."_

_**Peace. It is the meaning of my name. My father's dream. And it is something I have never known. But I am not my sole concern. **_

_ "And Leliana?" my voice catches over her name and my mother shakes her head, chuckling softly._

_ "Your bard is as resilient as they come. All men suffer at the death of their loved ones, but those wounds heal. Leliana is no exception."_

_**No. She is not. Leliana is a rose made of steel, yet still soft. I have shed blood for that rose and bled from its thorns. She would heal. But I would not. I cannot choose my paradise, nor do I desire to. **_

_ "Will you stay, Salem?" Eleanor asks._

_ "I made a promise." I smile, looking at the uneven skin tone on the third finger of my right hand, where a ring once resided. "And a Cousland never retracts their word. Even if they must return from death…and the most pleasant of dreams…to do so."_

_ My mother takes my cheeks between her hands and presses her lips to my forehead. "You are every inch your father's daughter." her voice trembles. "And no one has ever brought more tears to my eyes than that man."_

_ "I have always said I was the child born for your sorrow." I smile, attempting humor, dark though it is. _

_ "If my sorrow is the price for the joy of an entire world, then I will __**gladly**__ pay it." Eleanor rises and extends her hand._

_ I take it and she guides me to the gates of Cousland Hall. The world waits beyond, a world of pain and injury and a life certain to be fraught with unceasing peril. But also filled with passion, promise, and joy yet to be tasted. _

_ "I love you, my girl." my mother whispers, opening the gate. _

_ "Mother," I reach for her, wanting one final embrace, one lingering touch. _

_ "No." she shakes her head and I realize the finality of my decision. And that I am glad for it. "She is waiting for you, Salem. Go, fulfill your promise."_

_ "Will it hurt?" I ask, once more wary, sick and weary with pain. _

_ "Oh yes." my mother refuses to lie. "But the greatest treasures in life are never won with ease."_

_ I turn towards the open gate, placing one foot over the threshold, steeling myself, preparing to return to the waking world. _

_**Again once more into the fray. There is no battle I would rather fight.**_


	28. Chapter 28

**Leliana**

"Eat. Something." the elven assassin held a steaming bowl underneath my nose.

The scent of herbs nauseated me and I turned away. "Zevran…"

"But it's edible!" he exclaimed, hugging me around my shoulders with one arm. "Think of it, Leliana. Food prepared by those who are skilled in its making, tender and bursting with flavor, scrumptious and life affirming. It is tempting, no?"

He waggled his eyebrows and I could not help the slight curve at the corners of my lips. Zevran smiled, all teeth and exuberance, and handed me the bowl, somehow producing a spoon from the depths of his sleeve.

"Now sit." he ordered. "Eat."

I eyed the stew and my stomach growled, even though my throat tightened. My appetite had all but vanished, along with even the thought of sleep. I shook my head to clear it and began to eat, enjoying, as Zevran had mentioned, its edibility. Despite the many of great talent Salem had gathered to her, a good cook was not to be found.

_Not even Wynne_. I smiled at the memory of her one night attempting to feed the camp. The pot had exploded when the mage had mistaken a vial of her lyrium for seasoning salt. After that, the mage had made no further attempt at cookery.

"Now that is what I like to see." Zevran grinned and sat beside me, looking up at the clear skies of Denerim.

Somewhere, off in the distance, black smoke rose from the burning of the darkspawn bodies and the other casualties of war. Time seemed to have frozen in the city, even as citizens cleaned the rubble of what had been their homes and businesses. There was an overpowering sense of disbelief, a universally shared fugue state.

_It is as though we are all waking up from a terrible nightmare. Everyone here has lost someone…or something…dearly valued. But while their dreams are ended and their consequences laid bare in the waking light of day...my nightmare continues. _

"I do not like this face on you, Leliana. We are too alike, you and I, given to the joys and the beauty of life! I hate to see you suffering and sorrowful. " Zevran broke the silence, turning from the sky. "Wynne tells me you've hardly slept these last four days. You need to rest, my dear. Let your wounds heal."

I shook my head and finished eating. I sat the bowl aside and frowned. "They trouble me very little." I stared at the ground, my eyes too sensitive for the bright light of the sun. "Betwixt Wynne's consistent chiding and her magic, I am quite well mended."

"You're fraying at the seams." Zevran drew my attention towards him, forcing me to look into his smoldering eyes.

There were new scars scattered across his cheeks, an angry red line that started at the middle of his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. None of us had emerged from this conflict unscathed.

"I am managing things in my own way." I told him, slightly offended.

_He does not know. None of them do. The healers have only allowed my presence in Salem's quarters because Wynne threatened them. None of the others have seen her, pale and lifeless, barely breathing…constantly in pain from the spells being used to keep her soul tethered to her body. It would break the heart of a monster. _

Zevran took in my serious expression and pursed his lips…before he burst out in laughter that echoed across the cracked stone and hurt my ears. "You are managing things in _Salem's_ way!" he exclaimed, sobering as he saw my confusion. "Leliana, think. You are running yourself ragged. You do not sleep, you do not eat; you go about with pursed lips and fiery eyes. And instead of coming to those who would ease your troubles, you are caging yourself in a room that inflicts you with pain."

_Maker's blood_, my heart tightened and my breath hitched. _He is right. I have locked myself away from everyone, closing off my heart, closing off my mind, so consumed in my fears that I have ignored those who would…help me. All of those things which I railed against in Salem…I have become them. How many times did I beg her to speak and she kept silent? How many times did I entreat for her to rest, to close her eyes, and she steadfastly refused? _

"You are not wrong." I admitted, shaking my head as I re-entered a kinder reality. "I am…so worried, Zevran. Four days and she has not stirred. The healers are amazed that she has survived this long. I have tried to rest, but every time I close my eyes, I dream of death."

"Death is nothing to fear, songstress." Zevran comforted me, wrapping his arm about my trembling shoulders.

I pulled away from him and folded my spirit into itself, trying to create a shield against the fears and doubts that had gnawed at my mind with every waking hour. "I was prepared," I whispered, "ready and willing to tell her farewell, to set free the beautiful hopes and dreams that we had crafted together against all odds. Zevran…heavens, hells, and angels, Zevran, I have watched her die once before. But this…this endless, agonizing, _torture…_I do not know how much longer I can bear to watch her suffer before I fall completely to shards."

"Those who do not know Death as we do say it is certain." Zevran spoke, no theatre in his voice, no jesting or seductive undertones. "But she is capricious, fickle, and utterly unpredictable. Death does not honor the warrior or judge the guilty of her own volition."

"You have eluded her so long." I could not resist a smile at his poetic, somber tone. "You speak of her as though you are lovers."

"She has remained more faithfully at my side than any woman." Zevran grinned. "During my work with the Crows, there were contracts that came to us…multiple times. The same name, over and over as the months passed. We called them immortal, for every assassin proclaimed success, and yet these stubborn few insisted on living."

"How very curious." I fixed my vision back at Fort Drakon, the door that would lead to the room where Salem lay, clinging to life.

"I tell you this, because I studied these few, delved into their character, followed their footsteps, learned their ways. All the better to succeed where others had failed."

"And?" I asked, beginning to feel an itch that did not plague my skin, but my soul. _I need to go back...I **have** to return to her._

"Salem is immortal." he smiled, hope shining out from his radiant eyes. "No matter what, she will survive. I would lay a wager that she will surpass the warden's optimistic thirty years. So do not fret, my dear, and keep care of yourself, so that she has no worry for you when she wakes."

_**When. **__He…said…__**when**__. As though it is a guarantee. As though, through sheer force of belief, what we desire will come to pass. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps it is as simple as that. _

"Thank you, Zevran." I whispered, tears staining my voice.

I wrapped my arms around him in a fierce, but brief, embrace. I still did not trust his wandering, philandering hands. I rose from the bench and walked towards the door, a slight limp and an ache in my chest the only remnants of the darkspawn bolts that had pierced my body.

I opened the door and stumbled as Wynne nearly barreled me over. Her eyes were bright and wet and my heart thudded in my chest. We righted ourselves and her hand reached for mine, taking it and holding it, firm.

_No. Maker, please, no. Not after…not now…_

"Leliana," Wynne sounded more tired than I, "I have good news."


	29. Chapter 29

**Salem**

"Mistress Wynne, come quickly!" a foreign voice rang in my ears, discordant and noxious.

"What is it?" a familiar question, in a recognized tone.

"I…I think her eyes are opening." the stranger spoke, an eagerness in his voice that I did not understand.

"Let me…"

I heard shifting, the creaking of boards, the rattling of glass vials. I registered the feel of skin against my own, a warm hand resting against my cheek.

"Salem." Wynne spoke. "Salem, child, can you hear me?"

I pulled my eyelids open fully, hissing at the glare of the sun.

"Pull the shades, please." Wynne spoke and the light mercifully dimmed. "Salem," the senior enchanter's eyes looked into my own, "can you hear me? Blink once if you can."

Obedient, I closed my eyes, uncertain of why she looked so strained. I opened them again and Wynne's face beamed.

"Here." she pressed a glass to my lips. "Drink this."

Water, sweetened with honey, filled my mouth and I swallowed as I attempted to gain my bearings.

_Soft…blankets. Dear Maker, what has happened? How long have I been sleeping? I can hear, but scarcely…it seems as though everyone is speaking from a great distance. My right leg feels heavy, and my chest aches. _

"Salem, can you speak?" Wynne set the glass aside.

"Think…so." I tested my voice, finding it raw and ragged.

"Maker be praised." She pressed her hand to my forehead and closed her eyes. "No fever. Most excellent. Do not try to move, my dear. I will return in a moment."

"Wynne, what…"

"Be patient." she interrupted. "There will be time shortly. For now, be at peace. The Archdemon is vanquished, Denerim saved, and you are alive. Content yourself with that."

She fled the room and I closed my eyes as pain started to hammer at the back of them. I relaxed against the pillows, relishing their softness, a nice change from the cold stone of Fort Drakon, where I last remembered laying.

_It's done_, a smile broke over my face. _Finished. The Archdemon is dead and I am alive. Thank you, Morrigan…and…thank you, my Maker, for giving me this victory and sending me the assurance that I have not failed you. _

More dim sound echoed through the room and I heard voices, though I could not make out the words. I felt pressure on my hand, though little else.

"Salem."

My eyes flared open and I turned my head, wincing as pain flared up and down my spine and beat against my temples. I did not care. I would never care about any physical discomfort again.

Leliana's eyes turned to mine and filled with tears, even though her smile became the radiance of the sun.

"Welcome back, love." she whispered, lifting my hand against her cheek.

I saw then that my hand and entire arm were covered in bandages.

"Beautiful." I whispered the first word that came to mind, even though questions burned inside my thoughts. "Love you…so much."

More tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled. Wynne knelt beside her and my bard rested her head on the mage's shoulder, seeking comfort that I supposed I was too injured to provide. I hurt a little at that, but as my mother had told me, my body was human. I had brought down a god. It would be too much to expect to escape unscathed.

"You've had us quite worried, my dear." Wynne spoke. "The Blight ended four days ago and you were terribly injured. We've been waiting for you to awaken, and at times we feared the worst."

"I…apologize." I smiled.

"Oh, hush." Leliana lifted her head from Wynne's shoulder and brushed tears from her eyes with shaking fingers.

_She looks so tired. Maker's breath, but I am an inconvenience. However, I shall have time to remedy that. I promise you, dear heart, I will be able to make up for these days of worry. _

"You are here now; that is all that matters." she placed a brief kiss against my bandaged hand. "Are you in any pain?"

"Yes." I was too tired to lie. And the battle was over. There was no more need to grit my teeth and press forward. For now, Ferelden was out of danger.

"I can remedy that." Wynne patted Leliana on the shoulder and rose to her feet, leaving to a corner of the room that I could not see.

Leliana remained silent, as though she were afraid to speak, as though I was so fragile she might wound me further with a breath.

"Are you all right?" I asked, finding the bruised circles beneath her eyes worrisome, the pallor of her face not to my liking.

"Better now." she spoke the words I had shared with her on the roof of Fort Drakon.

"Is everyone…did everyone…" I could not pose the question, could not ask if the men and women I had grown to love were dead…or worse.

"Everyone is alive." she smiled, tracing my cheek with her fingers. "Alistair's shield arm was broken when he took on an ogre singlehandedly. You would be proud of him, Salem. He held the gates, standing strong until the Dalish and the dwarves arrived to break the siege."

"They came." relief flooded through me.

_Then all those months, those agonizing decisions. In the end, it was worth it. Our allies came to our aid. Thank the Maker. Perhaps, in the preservation of Ferelden, old grievances can be laid to rest. _

"Yes, my love. You succeeded." she leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. "You have earned a long rest."

_Not yet. Not every mission is complete. One thing more, Leliana. One thing more._

"Alistair?"

She laughed and it was all the music I would ever need.

"The poor man is yelling at nobles day and night. He says he will not wear the crown until you can stand beside him at his coronation. Eamon is beside himself."

I smiled at that. "And my standing is impossible because…"

Her face darkened and I felt guilty for asking the question. "Your leg was broken, Salem." she answered. "And your skull was fractured. The mages have been able to do very little for you…" she began to weep once more and I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms.

"Perhaps now I can remain in my right mind." I teased, attempting to bring a smile to her face.

"You insouciant wretch." she muttered, brushing tears away once more. "If inappropriate, ill-timed humor was a sword, you might have killed the Archdemon sooner."

"Leliana…"

"No, love." she stroked her fingers through my hair as Wynne rejoined us. "You need to rest now. All will be well, and there will be time."

_...time to grieve for things we have lost. Time to hold each other and rest, away from turmoil and constant battle. Time to mend our spirits and souls. There will be time…thank the Maker. _

"Drink this." Wynne held another cup to my lips.

It smelled stringent and bitter and I winced, even though I obeyed her.

"It will ease your pain." she told me, and Leliana smiled. "Then we can begin repairing your injuries in earnest."

"Dream sweetly, Salem." Leliana whispered. "I love you."

I did not think of the pain that would come with the use of magic. I did not focus on the dull throbbing between my temples. Instead, I fixed my eyes on Leliana, focusing on her as sleep conquered me all too easily.


	30. Chapter 30

**Leliana**

"Ugh! I'm no bloody good at this!"

I dodged as an elegant china vase smashed against the wall. It exploded into shards and a besogged mess of flowers tumbled to the floor in disarray. I placed my hands against my mouth, stifling a chuckle.

"Oh, Maker's breath!" Alistair slammed his palm against his forehead, staring at the destroyed ruin of the vase. "That belonged to the Revered Mother of the Chantry. Now I am going to be forced to draft an apology note and…and use fancy words like...remunerations...ugh."

"Calm down." I came to stand beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

He sagged into my touch for a moment before he began plucking at the embroidery on his shirt. "I…just…damn this. _Damn this to bloody hell!_ Do I want streamers or ribbons, flags or banners? Leliana, what is the _fucking_ difference!?"

"Well…"

"And colors!" he interrupted. "Will you be changing the royal standard, your majesty? Blue or gold, blue or silver, crimson or silver, violet or gold, I…I don't know what they mean! I do not know what any of this means! I just…"

He sat down on one of the benches and buried his head in his hand. His left arm still remained bound in a sling, as the kind-hearted warden had refused the mage's aid after the battle, saying that there were those who were far more injured than he.

_You will be every inch a king, once a few years have passed_. I smiled down at him, realizing the truth. _Salem saw the nobility in you from the very first, and took a great many steps to bring it out in you, pushing you past limits, straining the boundaries of your mind. _

"I thought you might could help me make sense of this." he looked up, smiling the same foppish grin that he had always given. "I hope I did not pull you away from anything important."

It was my turn to hide my face in shame. "I am afraid I am very little use to anyone these last few days. I am glad to be of help wherever I may…even though it appears even my expertise in the planning of royal affairs could not save the poor vase."

Alistair chuckled and leaned back against the bench. "I am fairly certain that vase was doomed from the outset of this venture. I wish…"

He trailed off, but I knew the words that lay at the tip of his tongue. They were the same words ringing through my mind.

_I wish Salem were here. Somehow, she could make all of this vanish. The confusion, the chaos…her mere presence could end it. _

"I know." I sat down beside him and gazed at the haphazard trappings that lined the walls of Fort Drakon's throne room. Banners were set askew on the dais, three or four different chairs placed at awkward angles, all in various states of upholstery and decor, scrolls and paper everywhere, tossed carelessly about on the floor.

"How is she?" he asked. "Better?"

"She seems to be." I avoided the question.

In truth, since she had first woken, I had discovered more and more excuses to place distance between she and I. At first, there were no protests, Wynne preferred me out of the way when the more intensive healing began…I did not like to admit that I preferred it myself. But lately…there had been questions from the healer's eyes.

_Why have I stayed away? Why have I begun to ignore her now…after the end…when all things are being set aright? When this land, and our bodies, can finally be healed and our long awaited rest granted? _

"I am running away again." I spoke, not realizing that I had voiced my thoughts aloud until the echo returned to me from the stones.

"What?" Alistair turned to me, such care and compassion in his eyes.

It reminded me of Salem…and my heart began to break for the thousandth time. "It is…what I've always done." I found myself confessing. "Alistair, I have run from everything in my life. I fled Cecile's care when Marjolaine entered my life; I fled to the Chantry after Marjolaine's betrayal. When I received my vision, I ran even from the Chantry…into Salem's arms, and I thought that there, I would be content to stay."

"And…you are no longer content?" Alistair asked, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

"I'm afraid." my voice trembled as I realized the truth. "Afraid that without the constant battle, the pressures of this life we have endured since the beginning that…"

"That there will be no reason for her to need you at her side? That with nothing forcing you together, all bonds will be broken?" Alistair asked, surprising me again with his understanding of my heart.

_As he did in the Frostback mountains. But then, I was too stubborn and in pain to listen to his wisdom. Maker, give me clearer vision. Let me understand the reason for my fears. Do not let them rule me as they have for my entire life. _

"Yes." I whispered. "I know it is petty of me to think that. But…I have never…never truly been loved. Always used and discarded. Always set before a trap. And I am quite the escapist. I have learned to run before the guillotine falls. I have learned to sever myself from the source of pain before the wound is even inflicted."

_Please say something._ I looked into his eyes, beseeching him, praying for him to assuage my fears. _Say something, anything, and I will listen. The nightingale is afraid…her heart is pounding, wings beating against her body, screaming that I must take flight…I am fighting against my own nature._

"I…I have nothing to say." Alistair surveyed the room around us, the cacophony and disarray of our surroundings. "Only that…I share a similar fear. I thought nothing could terrify me as much as the Archdemon. The months of fighting, the nightmares. I've never been so scared…until now. Until I look at all this catastrophe, and realize that it's _mine. _I own it. I belong to it. Somehow, somehow I have to _fix_ this!"

"And?"

"And I know she'll help me." Alistair smiled, his shoulders seeming to broaden with confidence. "Salem will not wear the crown, though the Maker knows she should, but on that day, when I have to get up in front of all these _people_ who are _expecting_ things from me, I will look at her and _know_ that I am capable."

"She has always inspired such faith." I shook my head. "Heavens, hells, and angels, Salem did the impossible…"

"Then let that anchor you and calm you." Alistair scooped up a sheaf of paper from the floor and stared at it before tossing it away again. "It's very strange, Leliana. The very thing that can assuage your fear is the one thing that you fear the most."

"I shouldn't be afraid of her." I stared down at the ground. "I know it, and it wounds me even as I cannot deny the emotion."

"Don't deny it." a new voice rang from the doorway and Alistair and I turned our heads, stunned.

Salem leaned against the threshold, standing under her own power. She was still several shades to pale, her frame gaunt from the days she had lain unconscious, the minor cuts she had received still standing out stark against her skin.

"I…I should go." Alistair ducked out of the room and my heart began to pound.

"Salem…" I wanted to go forward, but my body betrayed me and I took a step backwards instead. "How much…how much did you hear?"

"Enough."


	31. Chapter 31

**Salem**

Fear. It screamed at me, shining from those eyes. Those eyes ever-filled with mirth and devilry, mischief and humor…kindness and compassion unmeasured. A deep blue in which I could drown…in which I had indeed lost my life.

My body shrieked, fighting to stand against the remnants of the spells that had mended me. My spirit wailed in the wake of what I had just heard…that the one I loved was afraid of me…that the one for whom I had fought so hard was fighting her own nature to stay by my side.

She stepped back, even though we were already separated. "Salem…" she spoke, barely above a whisper. "How much…how much did you hear?"

"Enough." my voice cut through the air like a whip, harsher than I intended.

"I…I didn't mean…" she stammered, losing her bardic control, her eloquence, as she always had when faced with me.

I had been amused by it at first, in love with it later, but now…now I found myself furious.

_I did __**everything**__I could for you! I bled and died and continued forward __**only because you were at my side!**__ Only because I had the promise of you at the end of this torture! And now I find that might also be __**denied! **__No. __**No. NO!**_

"You did not mean for me to hear that?" I asked, limping into the room. "You did not mean for me to know your true feelings? You, who have constantly berated me about closing off my soul, who have urged me time and again to open my heart and my self…how very hypocritical of you, Leliana."

She gasped at the words as they left my lips, as she felt the bitter edge of them slice against her. "What do you want from me, Salem?" she asked, remaining motionless, uncertain of whether to advance or flee.

"From you?" I asked, lifting my hands in supplication…in desperation. "Nothing, now. You are free from your vision…why are you even here?"

Anger crackled in her blue-sky eyes. "Do not be flippant with me, Salem Cousland." she hissed, coming closer, daring to confront me. "You know very well why I am here."

"Against your will, it would seem." I walked towards her, limping as my injured leg protested the movement. "Tell me why." I demanded. "You owe me nothing and I ask very little, Leliana. I ask that you _tell me why!_"

"I…"

"I would say that it was the scars." I sliced the edges off her words, lost in my bitterness, awash in my fear that I would lose her yet again. And that somehow, this time, she would never return. "For you have ever been surrounded by paragons of beauty. I might say it was my eyes that scream of death, because they looked beyond the chasm of hell and into eternity. But you have met them without hesitation these last weeks. So why now, now after I am alive, after our mission is done, do you _dare_ speak of _fear!_"

"Because I am human!" she cried, tears lining those gorgeous eyes, turning them into a restless ocean that tossed my soul about on its waves. "Because I look before I place my feet! I run before the danger presents itself! Because. I. Am. _Not! __**You!**_"

_I am not human…she has said this to me before. She has begged me to show humanity, to cease placing the needs of others above my own. Perhaps she was right. This mission is finished. The Blight is ended. There is nothing to tie us together any longer. And I have often…she deserves a life better than the one I could give her. A Grey Warden from a war-torn country. What sort of future could that provide? No…let her make her choice. She has made it twice before, once I stopped her, and once she stopped herself. Three times for surety…_

"Salem," her hand reached out, shaking. Her voice had gentled and I saw the fear again and it broke me. "Salem, speak to me. Say something, please."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, unwilling to shed tears. I had foresworn them before, and she had brought them back. No more. My life seemed destined to be filled with pain…I would not let it break me.

"I went through hell, Leliana." her name tasted like salt on my tongue, like ash and faded dreams. "I went through hell for you…for us. I compromised my soul and asked another that I love to do the same so that I might come back to you."

"Salem…"

"Hear me out." I turned my eyes to hers and she flinched for the first time in so long. "I _want_ nothing from you. I have longed for you, and I have needed you, and I have found my hands empty so many times that I no longer _want_. You desire for me to show my humanity? Hear this, Leliana. And listen _well_. This is _your_ fault. _You_ are to blame."

Her face went white and the tears of grief in her eyes blurred to those of pain. "You don't mean that." she begged, praying for me to retract my words, to be the gentle, _inhuman_ soul I had been, that she had known and loved…that would never cause her harm.

"I mean every word." I walked closer to her and took her hands in mine, feeling her skin against mine like broiled desert sand. "I am beyond exhausted, Leliana. I've given too much to have it all flung back in my face with as pathetic an excuse as _fear_. So please, break my heart or simply leave it cracked, but do not tempt me with something I will never have."

"Salem, I don't want this." she sobbed. "Not again. I cannot live through this again."

"Then don't." I relinquished her hands and turned on my heel. "Make your decision, Leliana, and do not think of me. I have lost everything once already. I can rebuild again."

"Salem." she reached out for me and I pulled away, wanting none of it. "Salem…do you love me?"

_Do I love you? Do __**I**__ love you? _

"I am alive, Leliana." I gestured to myself. "Standing after only eight days of rest from grievous injuries. You have seen me healed…you have seen the magnitude of that pain. I had one reason to live, and here I stand, before you."

"Salem, I'm sorry…"

"I love you, Leliana. You have never needed to apologize for anything. But I am finished with guilt. This," I hung my head and sighed, "this is not what I wanted. Not at all. But I am blameless. Whatever happens is on your head."

I walked away from her.

"Salem!" she shrieked my name and it scorched the very edges of my heart. "Salem, please!"

I turned to her, wanting to run to her, embrace her, smother her with kisses. But not like this. Not if she still felt conflicted. Not if she was afraid.

"Make your decision, dear heart. For both of us."

"Salem, I love you." she fell to her knees in the wrecked throne room and I hardened the heart that longed to break.

"If you fear me as well," I asked, "how can I know that you speak true?"


	32. Chapter 32

**Leliana**

_Hear this, Leliana. And listen __**well**__. This is __**your**__ fault. __**You**__ are to blame._

The thoughts resonated through my mind as I stared at the empty, open doorway. Her shadow haunted it; the remnants of her wrath crackled around the doorposts and reached out, lashing me with crueler barbs than those attached to the whips that had flayed my skin.

I got to my feet and staggered away in a blind haze. I did not see the piles of rubble scattered throughout the city, nor answer the voices that hailed me with words of praise or thanks. They meant nothing. The world had been drained of color and I felt cold.

_I do not know what to do. I have never been here before. She has always been so kind, so understanding, so gentle that I thought she might break me with the breath of a whisper. But to hear those words, to hear the unadulterated truth ringing from them, see the anger flashing in her beautiful eyes. Eyes that promised me eternity. Eyes that screamed of love even when marred by death. _

_ Is it any wonder that I fear you? _I looked to the sky, but even the sun had lost its radiance. Even the blue of the sky seemed turned to a dingy shade of grey, dirtied by the words spoken between two lovers who could never seem to meet on equal footing. We were never strong together. One's strength always compensated for the other's weakness.

_How can we find balance? It seems we can never love each other when one is not bleeding, or haunted, or tortured. Our words turn to anger and accusation. Our hopes turn to dust and filter through our grasping fingers. What can I do? I have never…I have never been here before. _

Tears began to slip from my eyes and I let them fall, not caring about their clarity, that they spoke a truth my waking mind trembled to realize. She had never walked away from me before…and not come back. But she would not seek me out again, I had felt that with the surety of an iron brand against my skin.

Our fate was in my hands…and I had never held such a fragile thing. Always, always I had been the one who was hurt, and who ran from that pain, and who had learned to save herself from the eventuality of it.

_I have said it a thousand times if once at all. __**I have never been loved**__. Not until…__**now**__. And now it is my insecurities that threaten to tear us apart. It is my weakness and my proclivity for self-preservation that set this between us. Maker_, I rested against a wall and pinched the bridge of my nose_, I did not want for this to happen. All I wished to see was her smile, to take her in my arms and feel the strength of a promise that was mine, and mine alone. Her heart. Her devotion. Her love. _

_ Why do I forsake what I most desire? Why do I fear the longings of my own heart? Why can I not be strong? …why do I ask questions to which I know there are no answers?_

I pulled myself from the wall and walked through the main thoroughfare of Denerim, towards the gates that would lead to the war-torn land beyond. Away from the city streets that I loved, into the wild, Salem's haven…her place of peace.

_As she was mine. A place of calm I could always turn to. Even when I beat her, screamed at her that I hated her. She never turned me away. She held me close, as though I were precious, as though she would rather endure the pain of my touch for as long as I would allow rather than abandon me. Can I not do the same? Do I not possess that same manner of strength? Maker, help me. Send me a sign, a vision…anything. Please. I beg you. _

But nothing happened. I continued walking, looking at the open gates before me, soldiers and women and men milling about, going about the desperate business of repairing the city and preparing for a coronation. A wind of new hope blew against all of us, invigorating the weary citizens, who could finally look forward to a process of rebuilding and the cessation of war.

My warden had given them this gift. She had sacrificed more than any person would ever know. She had been through such pain and torment and none of them…none of them would ever realize that one woman…

_…I went through hell, Leliana._

I scraped the remnants of tears from my cheeks and stared at the open gates. How easy it would be to slip through them, into the wilds, and away from all this turmoil and these questions. I could bury them in the back of my mind, where they would never come forth again. I could school myself into forgetting. I had done such things before, and this time would be no different…except that it would.

_Do not lie to yourself, silly nightingale_, I chastised myself. _For you know this is the only time you have fled from something beautiful. I fled the terror of Marjolaine and Val Royeaux's dungeons. I raced from the derision of the Chantry when my vision was mocked and whispers of mental instability wafted to my ears. I have always run from terrible things. But never from peace. Never from hope. Never from a dream that encompassed all the desires of my soul. Why do I fear what I most long for?_

I took a step towards the gates and a mournful howl rocketed through me. I turned, recognizing the cry. Burrow raced to me, his missing ear giving his face a darling lopsided look. I did not kneel to pet him, fearing that he would simply break my heart yet further.

He placed his forepaw on my foot and whined, looking into my eyes with an animal sorrow that did not understand. The mabari loved me, because his master loved me. And he did not understand…he did not understand why I would be cold to him. He did not understand why I would turn away. Why I would leave.

I patted his head and turned away, towards the gate. Burrow leapt in front of me, sat on his haunches and lifted his forepaws in front of him…a trick that I had taught him along the road…to beg.

I stifled the laugh that crossed my lips. I had halfway expected to be stopped by one of my kinder companions, Zevran, perhaps, or Wynne. But no. A mute emissary came…a dumb beast who loved me, who had no knowledge of the words exchanged between me and his master.

He dropped to all fours and rolled on his back, a silent plea for affection. I smiled and dropped to my knees and scratched his belly, looking into those eyes…those highly intelligent eyes.

_It is little wonder that the Couslands chose the mabari for their symbol. Keen intellect and fierce, fierce loyalty. They defend what they love to the death…and if they cannot die for it…then they let it go. But Salem has given too much to simply let go…she can take no more blame, endure no more guilt. That is why this time, she set those burdens on my shoulders…where they have always belonged._

"I am tired of being afraid, Burrow." I whispered to the dog.

He launched himself to his feet and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I smiled and wiped the dog's saliva from my skin.

"I do not know how to fix this." I confided to the one companion who would never share my words with another.

He yipped and spun in a circle, drawing attention to himself, as though he were saying that he could help me somehow. He stopped and looked at me, cocking his head at an angle, as if asking me why I persisted in waiting.

"But I have to try." I reached out and scratched behind his missing ear. "Lead the way, boy. Take me to Salem."


	33. Chapter 33

**Salem**

I hissed as I eased into the steaming water of Fort Drakon's mercifully undamaged baths. The water washed over my numerous healing injuries, stinging. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at anything, not the mosaics in the stone, or the ripples of the water, the rising of the steam…the new scars that decorated my skin.

_I want to wash it all away. The memory, the pain…the dirt, grime, and dead skin that has defined my being for so long. And yet, when I emerge from this water, it will follow me, clinging to me in the form of marks on my body that cannot be erased, that cannot be hidden. I will always know that I fought dragons and contended with gods. I will always have the memory of her love stamped in my skin. _

_ I shall never be free. _

I submersed myself completely and washed the dirt of battle and the sheen of sweat from my hair, realizing for the first time how long it had grown. In the many months of turmoil the little things had been forgotten, pushed aside, tied back with leather and never brought to mind again.

_So many things were new and pressing that the old was cast aside. And the Salem Cousland of old belonged to the land, to Ferelden, to Highever. She never thought of heartbreak and never dreamed of children and marital bliss. She concerned herself with her duty to her family and her country…she smiled often…laughed more. _

_ I miss her. _

_But not as much as I miss Leliana. _

I emerged from the water, released the breath I had been holding, and dragged my drenched hair away from my face.

I did not want to admit it to myself, to subvert my anger, to come down from my furious, high-handed perch, but I had too. I understood her fear. Maker's breath, I understood. At the edge of all things new, with no impending doom or disaster to confront. The ability to sleep without waking in the night clutching a blade. These things were new...a gift that she had never been given. And who was I, away from all of that? A stranger. Both to her and myself.

We were not soft creatures, she and I. We did not know how to give ourselves over to the peaceful times in life, much less know who we were in those moments when action was not demanded, when blood had no need of being spilled.

_I do not feel that my actions or my words were unjust…but I regret not telling her. I regret not being honest. Maker, if she leaves again…I will not know what to do. My heart would say to go after her, but I…I am always the one to do that. Perhaps, now, in this time when I am at last allowed to drop the veneer of preternatural strength, my true desire comes to the forefront._

_ I want a guarantee._

_ I want to know._

_ I want her to come for me…_

_ …to prove that who I am now is worthy of love._

I relaxed against the side of the bath, letting the heat of the water soothe my skin and alleviate the aching in my muscles. I was so tired of pain. I wanted to remember what it was to exist without my nerves fraying at every movement, to walk without fearing the tearing open of skin, to forget the color of blood.

I hung my head and loosened the muscles in my neck, savoring the quiet, the ability to be alone with my thoughts. To be at peace.

_But something is missing. Leliana. __**She**__ should be here. We should __**be**__ together. Since we fell into each other's lives, we both have changed. All things that glittered in the eyes of that young woman who was once Salem Cousland…they have lost their glow. I no longer feel that way._

_ I am no longer that person._

_ I cannot return to who I was before._

I massaged my temples as my head began to pound. It seemed I would never be finished with the headache that had haunted me since the moment Duncan had dragged me, white-faced and mute, out of Highever. The life that had been mine since that day had been fraught with peril, choked with nightmares, painted in blood. But there had been moments…such beautiful moments. Moments that I would relive the entirety of that hell to experience once again.

_Moments with her. Spent at her side, in her arms, learning to love. Learning how to strip way the armor of soul and spirit and lay it all into another person's hands. She taught me how to smile again. She taught me how to laugh. _

I finally opened my eyes and looked at the mirror tiles along the edges of the bath, reflecting my gaze back at me. My skin was pale, a small assortment of scabbed over cuts decorated my face. The scar left by the dragon in the mountains stood out stark on my cheek, a beautiful smear of indigo and scarlet.

"Maker, I am lost." I whispered, examining the face of a stranger.

A woman that had been forced into existence with very little say in the matter. A woman who had taken on the burdens of a thousand souls, who had carried the lives of countless on her shoulders. A woman who could not have done it alone.

_But I am alone now…alone with a complete stranger in my reflection. And no one to interpret the shadows that surround me. Yes, Leliana, you were right to be afraid. But this new face of me has lost all hesitation in the face of fear. I know what I desire…I desire you to love me as fiercely as I love you. To risk the pain. To brave the potential of heartbreak. I want proof. Proof that you have changed as much as I. That you no longer need to run…because the pain you flee is no longer present._

I stared at my hand, at the spider-webbing scars that had turned a deeper shade of blue and the uneven skin tone of my finger where a ring had once rested.

_That promise is still yours, if you want it. I will always love you, Leliana. I no longer know who I am without you. And I have no desire to recreate an identity._


	34. Chapter 34

**Leliana**

Burrow nudged the back of my knee with his wet nose, urging me to go forward. My hands were shaking so badly and I did not know why. There had been no harsh words that brought me here. There was nothing to fear from Salem. She would never harm me…and I had given her many reasons to do so.

In fact…had I treated Marjolaine in such a manner, I would have been in the face down, nameless, floating in a river with a knife protruding from my back. Dead. Dead with no one to care, no one to remember, and no one to grieve.

Much like my warden, I had nothing left.

_So why do I run? _I questioned myself, taking the dangerous step forward. _Why do I run from everything into nothing? Why have I instilled this so deeply into myself that I am willing to forsake the greatest gift I have ever been given?_

I walked deeper into the dark hallways that Burrow had brought me to, without the mabari. He stood guard at the entrance, knowing this was important, though not comprehending the depth of it.

The hallway widened into a room with windows high in the walls, allowing light to filter in dimly. The walls seemed to move as the reflection of the water was cast over them. Steam rose from the heat of the baths, providing a muggy comfort. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, gazing at Salem.

She had her back turned to me, and my gut clenched at the star shaped scar on her right shoulder, where she had been struck with an arrow when she used herself as a living shield…my shield.

_Oh, Salem…why am I even here? We have played out this exact scene so many times, twice with happy endings. How many times can we tempt tenuous fate?_

My warden turned and I ducked into the shadows, not ready to announce my presence, still afraid, still trembling, still uncertain.

I bit my tongue, feeling tears in my eyes as I took in what the Archdemon had done to her. Her right leg was still bruised, an ugly line of stitches across it where the bone had been forced through the skin. Deep crimson scars, made by the Archdemon's blood, roped her arms and shoulders, spreading down over her chest, between her breasts, ending at her navel.

There was an angry red line across her thigh, still healing, made by a hurlock's broken blade. I remembered watching…watching as her skin was shredded to ribbons, screaming in my soul as she persisted in the fight that would have killed a lesser person. I watched a mortal woman slaughter a god…and she survived.

_She survived because of a promise made. Not to the wardens, not to Ferelden, not even to the man who is her brother and who will be king. She lived because she made a promise to me…a fickle bard who would sooner flee than stand her ground, who takes lives from a distance so that her hands are not stained. A woman who became who she was out of curiosity…and still repents at leisure. _

Salem emerged from the water, toweled off, and began dressing herself. I remembered the last time this had happened…when I was the one, vulnerable, naked, under the scrutiny of her fathomless blue eyes.

_For the love of all that is holy, Leliana, say __**something!**_

"I know you are there." Salem spoke, and her voice echoed in the tiled room.

It was gentle, insufferably kind, the Salem I had come to know through the months of turmoil and hell. There was no trace of the fury I had heard earlier…no trace of the fury, but still of the sorrow.

Guilty, I emerged from the shadows, allowing her to see me in all of my non-existent glory. The confused child who hid behind the bard and the nightingale, masks made to please others. A mask that she had asked me to discard, stripped away and laid bare…showing me the woman who lay behind the eloquent words, the songs, the stories, the blood. A woman who was afraid of being loved. Afraid of love, because it could bring a harsher pain than torture.

"It appears I've lost my touch." I smiled, muted, attempting humor in a dark situation…her strength, not mine.

"No." Salem looked up at me and her eyes did not scorch. The calmed…even smiled. "You are beneath my skin, in my soul, beating in time with my own heart. I will always know when you are near."

"Wha…what else do you know?" I asked, wanting her arms around me, her assurances, the peace she brought wherever she walked.

"No, dear heart." she shook her head, and my heart dropped. "This cannot be about me. Not about what I sense from you, or what I understand. You came to me, and I…I want nothing more than to give you what you desire, but I cannot. Not until I know. Why have you sought me out?"

She sat down and I cringed as I followed the movements. _Emotion is a weakness_, Marjolaine's ghost sang in my thoughts, _it will kill you if you let it. If you open your heart, there are those who will sunder it. Trust no one, Leliana. Even those you hold close in the night. They have only themselves in mind. _

"Salem, can I…can I trust you?" I asked, hating myself as I saw the pain that crossed her features.

"I would say yes," she replied, "but that is not my answer to give. Trust is given, Leliana, and if I do not deserve yours, in your mind, then no. You cannot trust me."

"I…I want to." I admitted, feeling my throat clench as though I were being strangled. "I want to, and my heart knows that I can…but I am afraid."

I examined her eyes; saw nothing but care and compassion. There was no sign of anger, no trace of wrath. Simply patience. And forgiveness. Beauty.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked.

"Myself." I hung my head, unable to meet her gaze as I trusted her with the truth. "I have made…terrible choices, Salem. And you know them. I gave my heart to Marjolaine, and when that fell apart I fled to the Chantry. Even then, I made the mistake of telling the Revered Mother in Lothering of my vision. The doubt, the scrutiny, the laughter…I ran. And I met you…and I saw in you all that I desired, and I love you, and I trust you…but for me it only lasts so long. So long until I am betrayed, or turned away…or discarded for another dream."

My words choked on a sob and I drew my knees into myself, resting my head on them, letting my shoulders shake with tears.

"So why are you here?" Salem's voice was low, rough, uncultured…all things that my former self had despised. All things that she had made me adore.

"Because I _do _love you." I whispered and my words shook like fragile autumn leaves. "And I am tired of running. I am sick with myself, but I have nothing to prove that this time will be different. And my…my faith is weak. Yes, Salem," I looked at her with fire in my eyes, "the woman who trusted a vision from a long-silent Maker admits that her faith is _weak_."

"Your faith carried me through hell when I had none." Salem told me, her tone would take no arguments. "But we find strength not our own in the face of untold terror. Faith can waver. People can be weak. Tell me what you want."

My lips quivered as I met her eyes, saw the scars in them…scars that she wore for my sake. "I do not want to be afraid anymore. I…I want to trust. I want…this time…to be different."

"Why?" she asked, but this inquiry was not an accusation, not threatening, not painful. It simply was.

"Because I wear this ring." I extended my hand and my voice did not shake. "And I have not been able to even think of taking it off. And that…is because I _want_ this promise…and the woman who gave it to me. Because I love you, Salem Cousland. So much so that I am afraid."

She got to her feet and walked to me, sitting again and leaning against the wall. She drew me gently into her arms, bringing my head to rest against her shoulder. She placed a kiss on my forehead and I felt as though I were finally at home.

"Give me time." she whispered. "Give me time, and I will assuage all of your fears."


	35. Chapter 35

**Salem**

The muggy heat of the rising steam washed over me as I cradled my lover in my arms, feeling that, at last, all was well in the world.

_You came back. And you came back for me, even after I spoke to you in anger, crushed your soul between my hands, and damaged you as I swore I never would. _

"Your thoughts stray to darkness." Leliana whispered against my neck, planting the whisper of a kiss. "Will this ever change?"

"I…," the question caught me off guard. "…I do not know. Believe you me, I wish I had the answer. I wish that I could tell you that the darkness is ended, the nightmares are over, but I…I cannot make you any further promises, dear heart. I have already broken too many."

Leliana sat up and brushed her damp hair away from her face. "You've broken no promise to me, Salem." she smiled and my heart began to burn as it had from the first.

_You taught me what it was to love. You gave me strength when I had nothing left. You sacrificed yourself to a cause not your own, and witnessed untold horrors. Legends are written for heroes, Leliana, and you are that exact description. All that is bright, beautiful, and beloved by the Maker. _

"I love you." I breathed, gathering her into my arms once again, locking my eyes with hers, drowning in the deepest blue.

"But it is only in the legends that love defies fate." her tone took on a more serious note and I heaved a sigh, knowing that the dreaded revelation would have to be borne out.

I loosened my grasp and let her go, waiting for the questions, the accusations…the harsh words when Leliana discovered what I had done. She moved across from me and set her face into a mask, reining in her emotions.

"How, Salem?" she asked. "I know what I saw in my vision. You confessed to me Riordan's revelation. There was no way…no way you could be here, living, breathing…I should have buried you, and we both know this."

"I…I made a deal." I answered, remembering my mother's words in the dream that had been not quite a dream. _It was not a sin. _

"With what? With whom?" she pressed, and I remembered that her skill had been to draw the truth from unwilling lips.

"With Morrigan." I admitted, watching a shadow fall across her face.

Leliana had possessed no love for the witch; the two women had been at each other's throats from the day that my bard had joined us in Lothering. There had been moments, though, rare moments of human compassion and kindness between them. Not enough, though. Not enough that Leliana would forgive me for doing what I had done. It did not matter if I could forgive myself. It did not matter that intent of action forged the purity of the soul. What mattered is that the bonds holding me and the bard together had been strained to the fullest. This might rend them asunder.

"Go on." her tone was carefully controlled, denying me a glimpse of her emotional reaction.

"She…she found a way. A way to circumvent the magic of the Joining. She offered it to me, and I accepted."

Leliana frowned. "There is more to this than you are saying." she pushed me farther to the edge of revelation. "In the throne room, you said that you compromised your soul and asked another that you loved to do the same. I know that someone was not me, Salem. Please. Tell me everything."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, giving my fate into the Maker's hands and into my lover's kindness.

"Morrigan did not tell me the finer intricacies of the magic." I began. "It…it required what she called a different sort of Joining."

Color drained from Leliana's face, leaving even her lips pale, as she understood the witch's innuendo. "Salem, you did not…" she trailed off, unable to think that I might have betrayed her.

"No." I assured her. "Not me. Alistair. She told me their union would produce a child…a new soul, already imbued with the taint. A vessel that would harbor the Archdemon's soul with no resistance…a place where it could live, not be extinguished along with the life of the warden who killed it."

I watched realization settle in, as Leliana comprehended the gravity of what I had done. We sat in silence for a while and I felt the weight of a gathering storm press in around me.

"And Alistair…consented to this?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

"Not…not at first. He had as many reservations as I did. I…I got down on my knees and begged him." I admitted, remembering the tumultuous chaos of emotions that I had felt that night.

_I confessed to you that my death was inevitable, lost myself in your touch, gave myself completely over to you…and then she came, speaking the words I longed to hear…that there was a way to live. And a terrible price to pay. A great unknown let loose into the world, for good or ill._

"Salem…Morr…_that woman_ is _evil_." Leliana hissed. "And now you mean to tell me that she is out, traipsing about in the world with a child in her womb that harbors the soul of the creature that threatened to rip Thedas to _shreds!_?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Leliana stood over me, flinging the question with as much ferocity as she loosed her arrows. "_Why_ would you do _something like __**that**_? You have been _nothing_ but a paragon of shining light—you restored my faith in this world! Do you _realize_ the dangers that this could present? There is a child to be born that has _Theirin blood_ coursing through its veins! If Alistair has no heir, Morrigan could take Ferelden by storm, and have your beloved country ruled by a _fucking_ Archdemon!"

I started shaking, afraid all over again that in my decision to live, I would lose the reason for it.

"I know." I told her. "I know."

She leaned against the wall and covered her eyes with her hand. "Then why? Why would you take _such_ a risk?"

"In hopes that I would live, and gain the opportunity to repair the damage done." I sighed and rose, walking to Leliana, afraid to touch her once again. "Because I did not want to die. After everything I have given; after everything I have done for this land, I _selfishly_ did not want to die for it. These months have ruined me, Leliana. If ever I was beautiful, that is ended. If ever I hoped to live to old age, that too, is gone. The title that I would have possessed is forfeit to my brother, all lands and holdings as well. I have nothing. Nothing but you."

Leliana flung herself against my body and sobbed, clinging to me so tightly I felt my bones would break. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, pressing my lips against her hair.

"I'm sorry." I apologized for the crime I committed out of love. "Please, forgive me, Leliana. I wanted to live. For me. For you. To keep my promises. To see the beautiful future we could have."

"I love you." she wept. "Maker's blood-soaked breath, I love you, Salem. I forgive you…I forgive you this and any sin. Just hold me. Please, hold me."

"I'm here." I comforted her, cradling her head against me, rocking her gently. "It will be all right. Somehow, I will make this right."

"Wha...what if you can't?" the question broke my heart.

"I will." I swore, looking over her head, to the yawning doorway...spiraling into the darkness of what the future might hold.


	36. Chapter 36

**Leliana**

I could see the look in her eyes, even though I did not gaze upon them. It was cold, with a desperate fire burning behind that feared its own heat, its own passion. It was a depth that feared to reach its bottom.

I let her arms wrap around me, the only fortress that had ever protected me without turning me from its gates. Yes, the actions she had taken to stand here before me could have dire consequences. Yes, within the thirty years her life allowed, Thedas and Ferelden both might be washed in another overpowering wave of hell.

_Yet it does not matter. She is alive, and, try as I might to moralize, I remember that night in Redcliffe Castle…before the battle…after she succumbed to slumber…I cried myself to sleep. I have not done that since the first night Marjolaine punished me for a mistake. And after that, I swore that nothing would bring me to so great a grief again. But I wept because I would lose her…as ever, she has always torn down my defenses and shown me that I am strong enough without them._

_ It was a desperate measure, and I am __**happy**__ that she took it. I am glad that she is standing here, with me, alive. I am glad that I did not have to watch the funeral flames consume her body. I do not care. I do not care that she made a deal with that vile witch._

"Well," she spoke and there was a smile in her voice, "somehow I imagined this going much worse."

I laughed through the tears that had begun to form in my eyes. I backed away and shoved her playfully.

"Is nothing sacred to you, Salem?" I glowered at her, but smiled.

Her eyes slanted as she struggled between her dark humor and the seriousness of what we had just discussed.

"I killed a god." she waved her hand, flippant. "The sacredness of things has since been lost on me."

Her strange humor won out and I stared at her, incredulous. However, I softened as I saw the mirthful gleam in her eyes, a light that I had witnessed all too rarely.

_The battle is over_, I realized, warming to the sacrilegious words she had spoken. _The war is done and we are free to explore who we are outside of bloodshed, terror, and the fear of loss. We are, all of us, going to change._

"What is it?" she asked, and tears of a different sort welled in my eyes.

Joy.

"You are lovely when you smile." I ducked my head as a blush crept over my cheeks, as I realized that the desperation that had held us together would soon be gone.

It would be replaced with new feelings, new emotions. Softness, calm. Uncertainty. I had met Salem at the point of a sword, freshly minted from a battle in hell. Now, here we were, in a time when weapons could be laid down, when the rare moments at the firesides in camp would become more common…fear crept into my heart again and I quickly stamped it out.

_No. For it was in those rare moments of calm that I discovered the wealth of her heart, and where she began the arduous task and chipping the masks from my soul. _

Salem's hands, now both scarred with the acidic blood of monsters, framed my face. I felt the difference in the texture of the skin, the calluses built from a lifetime of wielding weapons…the hands of a true noble. I would never equate a soft hand with high birth ever again.

Her lips met mine with a softness they had never before possessed…never been allowed. My heart fluttered in my chest as she kissed me with painstaking care, as the strength of her arms folded around me as though they had been built for that purpose alone.

I lost myself, closing my eyes, returning the kiss without ardor, without the frenetic frenzy of the desperate passions that had once united us. I allowed the changes that would come to wash over me, infusing me with a greater hope than I had ever known.

Salem trailed her lips across my cheek and down my neck, finally resting her forehead against my shoulder.

"If that is the case," she spoke, and the warmth of her breath against my skin sent shivers down my spine, "I will never cease to smile."

I moved away from her, holding her at arm's length, taking the time to truly _see_ her as I had never been able to before. Her face was all angles and planes, as sharp-edged as the land she was born from. The high cheekbones were more prominent now; her skin still pale from the grievous injuries she had endured. Her nose would have been perfect; the straight line of a noble profile, but it had been made slightly crooked from having been broken twice.

_Once for me…in Howe's dungeons._

Her dark hair, the color of freshly tilled earth, was soft against my hand. Streaks of silver ran through it now, the signs of age come too soon. She now looked as though she deserved the wisdom that surpassed her years.

I traced the indigo and scarlet scar on her cheek with my thumb, feeling the incredible softness of the healed skin. All of the other scars, from battles, from torture, could be hidden. But not this one. Every time she looked into a mirror, she would be reminded. Reminded of the days spent covered in blood and filth, an impossible burden on her shoulders…the wreck of a body that had once been strong and unmarked.

She lowered her eyes beneath my scrutiny; eyes scarred from looking across mortality into eternity. They were a shade of blue I had never before witnessed, like a winter sky, swirling into a radiant silver at the center. I had seen these eyes blinded for my sake. I had seen these eyes hold love and compassion, kindness and sorrow, the wrath of the heavens.

But never fear.

"You are…so beautiful." I whispered, my voice choking with emotion.

"No." she shook her head, unable to see what I witnessed, a woman of impossible strength who had managed to keep her soul. A woman who had made decisions that would break anyone else, who had decided the fate of races and kingdoms, without compromising her emotions or beliefs.

A woman who had seen the horrors of war, and retained the ability to feel.

"Darling, I have stood before kings, queens, and princes." I told her, cupping her chin with my finger and pulling her eyes to mine. "I have sat in the place of honor in marble halls and ostentatious palaces. I have been covered from head to toe in silks and finery. I have seen the beauties of the nations parade before my eyes, proud of their grandeur, gazing down the height of their noses at those whom they thought were lesser."

"Then you know what true beauty is." she worried her lower lip with the edge of her teeth.

"Yes." I told her. "I have witnessed the shallow hearts and dim perceptions of mankind, who gaze at a face decorated with paints and potions, every hair in place, body shaped to perfection by corsets and ridiculous heels and lust after it, not knowing that the resonance within that soul is hollow and vapid and vain. I lost my heart so such a woman, once. Because I was young…because I could not recognize…"

I trailed off, remembering when I had been entranced by the frippery and vanity of the world Marjolaine had showed me. Remembering when I had been one of the hollow, painted faces in a sea of similar creatures who defined themselves in the petty thoughts and attentions of others. Remembering my shattered soul when I first looked upon the body ruined by the two weeks of torture, and had thought it worthless. The body that Salem had set fire to with her kisses, held close in the night, ignored the scars and saw the tarnished soul beneath, taking the time to erase the soot-stained veneer and let the light come through once more.

"What?" my warden asked me, gentle. "What could you not recognize?"

"What beauty truly is…what you have shown me, Salem." my voice shook, but my words did not desert me. She needed this truth, as much as I needed to give voice to it. "It is a soul that has great burdens forced upon it, and does not look with anger upon the one who should have taken them. It is a heart that hears a tale of preposterous fantasy and listens without mockery. It is someone who discards their noble name and high birth and walks through life humble; who shows compassion to the less fortunate and does not deride the weak. It is a body that has been through hell…it is a woman who looks her torturer in the face and says 'I forgive you'. It is a woman who rails against her own countrymen for how they have treated another race, who risks her title and name and reputation in the defense of those who cannot take up arms."

There were tears in Salem's eyes, and her lips quivered with words she could not say.

"It is a woman," I continued, fighting the lump in my throat, "who takes a poisoned blade for the one that she loves…who endures the torment of blindness…and never holds it against me. It is a woman who has watched me walk away from her so many times…and each time takes me back, never flinging my past mistakes in my face. It is _you_, Salem Cousland. You have changed me, my love, in ways I never dreamed that I could be altered. I have seen true beauty, and I wish to never look at anything else, ever again."

She smiled, shy, abashed, looking like a stranger, a young woman who didn't know the meaning of war. "I did what must be done." she whispered. "Nothing more, nothing less."

I sighed, exasperated…but it was what I loved most about her. That in the light of her heroism, in the glittering grandeur of her accomplishments, she would prefer to remain in shadows.

_But this is why bards came into being_, I smiled, realizing the depth of my calling at long last, _to sing for the heroes that have died. Or for the ones too humble to bask in their greatness. I said before that I could not bring myself to write a tale for you, my love. I lied. I will tell your legend…I will proclaim to the world the beauty I have seen. _

"We should go." I wrapped my arm around her waist. "Alistair is probably shredding the curtains with his teeth by now."

She laughed and the sound of it echoed, foreign to my ears. My heart skipped a beat and I pulled her tighter to me.

As we left the muggy comfort of the baths, the Divine's letter scraped against my chest, burning. Secrets had been revealed…to me…of a painful and destructive nature. I still harbored my own. This was not the time…not yet.


	37. Chapter 37

**Salem**

"Stop."

"But…"

"Here." I reached out and smoothed Alistair's hair and adjusted the stiff collar of the crimson tunic that he wore. His irrepressible cowlick remained still beneath my fingers and I grinned at him. "That's better."

The rich red accentuated the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them seem almost aflame. I was glad that he had kept the traditional Theirin colors, choosing what the people knew, what they were familiar with.

Appearances were everything in the noble's world. Perception was reality. Alistair had been opposed during the Landsmeet. It was only Fergus' miraculous reappearance and my victory against Loghain that had secured our position and made this day possible. There was still a great deal of work to be done. Keeping true to the old Theirin colors would help convince those who feared too much change that perhaps not all was lost.

"I'm not ready for this." Alistair clenched and unclenched his fists, rolling the shoulder of his recently healed left arm, which had been broken by an ogre's fist as my warden brother held the gates.

"You will be fine." I assured him, brushing imaginary motes of dust from his impeccable clothing.

He had never been to official court functions, as I had. He had been cast from Eamon's house when he was a mere ten years old, and sent to the Chantry. Unlike Leliana, he had not been able to choose the calmer paths. Instead, they thrust a sword in his hand and forced lyrium down his throat. And he had been too young to understand, unable to deny those older and supposedly wiser.

The warden's life was not something anyone would choose. I had found that out with Ser Jory…a man who had foolishly volunteered until he realized the true cost. My gut had turned when Duncan had killed him, but I understood the necessity of it. It was not a life that one entered into lightly.

Alistair, however, had willingly accepted Duncan's offer, eager to leave the life of a templar behind him. Eager to be the judge of his own life, not submit to the edicts of others who declared death to men and women supposedly cursed with magic.

And a man who would willingly give his life to the taint and risk death in order to free his soul and aid others, with no compulsion pressed upon him to do so…I beamed with pride. Alistair looked, and was, every inch a king, even if he did not believe himself suited to the task.

"Salem, I'm not…I am not you." Alistair blushed and looked around, making certain that we were alone in the anteroom of the main hall of Fort Drakon.

I frowned as I remembered those same words spilling from Leliana's lips. "And what bearing does that have on this situation?" I asked him. "I am no different than any of you. I am, in fact, perhaps lesser."

Alistair scoffed and pulled the collar away once more, irritated by its height and stiffness. "You saved Thedas and Ferelden and killed an Archdemon. You are lesser than no one and greater than most."

I shook my head, refusing to believe him. I had done my duty to my Maker and my country. I did not wish to be called a hero. I did not even wish to be here. I longed for that which Bryce Cousland had made his life's dream. Peace.

"Alistair, if anyone deserves the credit for this, it is you, and those who joined us along the way. You did the same as I. I counted on your sword in battle. I relied on you for counsel when all else deserted me. Now, Ferelden needs you. More than they will ever need me."

"I'm not…I am not a king." he protested. "I have no taste of politics and even less for politicians. I…"

"Made an impassioned speech at the Landsmeet." I smiled. "Even though I could scarcely stand under my own power, I heard your words, I saw your bearing. And I saw the reactions of the bannorn. They were impressed."

"I said those words for you." Alistair blushed and picked at the heavily embroidered sleeve of his tunic. "You…you give people strength, Salem. If I did not know the truth, I would swear you possessed magic. You have always…I mean…dwarven politics. Do I really need to say anything more?"

I laughed, sobering as I remembered the horror of Orzammar, the sleepless nights I spent in the belly of the earth, wracking my mind, trying to decide which candidate for the crown to back. In the end, I chose the man who had slain his father and siblings…but he was a man who looked forward, who wanted the caste system obliterated, the tattoos stricken from the faces of newborn babies.

"We've yet to see how those dwarven politics will play out." I walked to the chest in the room, where I had secured a gift for Alistair.

"And I am your next political experiment?" Alistair grumbled as a servant tugged at his tunic, making last moment adjustments. "Throw the warden on the throne and see if he can swim?"

"No." I turned around and Alistair's jaw dropped as he saw what I held in my hands.

"Where did you…it cannot be…can it? Is that…"

"Yes." I smiled as I set the sword in his hands. "I found it when we returned to Ostagar. My first intention was to return it to Anora, but that was before you revealed your parentage. This is yours, Alistair. Cailan's blade, the sword he inherited from your father. I secured it with Isolde at Redcliffe before we left for the Circle."

Alistair took the blade in his trembling hands. "Salem, this is the Sword that Freed Ferelden. It is the symbol of our victory over Orlais. I couldn't…I cannot accept this."

"Yes, you can." I told him, pulling the blade from his hands and affixing the sheath to his belt. "Because you, too, freed Ferelden. You liberated her from the Archdemon and the darkspawn, breaking the siege in Denerim as surely as your father did years ago."

"But you _killed_ the Archdemon." Alistair stressed, standing stiff as I wrapped the belt around his waist and affixed the various necessary trappings of gilded rope.

"And I survived it because of you." I finished with the sword and smoothed the wrinkles I had made. "We could stand here for days bickering about such trivialities. All that matters is this day, this moment. The crown finally back in the hands of a good man."

"Salem…I do not even know what I am going to say. These people…they are all looking at me and expecting me to effect change, to re-build the country. I…I…I do not know what to do. I do not have your preternatural skills for saying the appropriate thing at the appropriate time."

"I will be with you." I promised, taking his hand. "Every step of the way. The words will come to you, as they always have to me."

"Promise me?" he asked, looking so very very young.

"I promise." I lied, as I had so many times.

I had given my word to so many, with no way of knowing if I could follow through. I always had, no matter the pain endured, or the wounds inflicted. Because I was a Cousland. I would turn lies to truth because it meant _keeping. my. word._

The door to the antechamber opened and I lifted my swords onto my back in what I hoped would be the last time.

_Let there be peace. Dear Maker, let there be peace_.

A servant entered the room and bowed low. "Your majesty," she nodded to Alistair, "Lady Cousland, the Revered Mother is ready and all the nobles are in place."

"I do not suppose there's any backing out of this?" Alistair asked the moment she left.

"Not in the least." I crooked my arm at the elbow and extended it to him.

We would walk down the long hallway to the future arm in arm, side-by-side, facing this moment as we had all other trials. Together.

"Well then." he took my proffered arm and we walked to the door.

Before he opened it, he turned to me, leant down, and placed a kiss on my lips. It was not lustful; it did not seek anything. It simply was. It was everything he felt for me and could never say…because he knew my heart belonged to another, and he was a good enough man to accept it.

"Forgive me." he whispered, resting his hand on the door.

"It…it's all right." I resisted the urge to brush my hand across my lips, not wanting to hurt him. "I understand."

"You always do." he said, flinging the door open.


	38. Chapter 38

**Leliana**

Time seemed to stand still. Music played and people shifted nervously in the Great Hall where the Landsmeet had been held, but even so, it seemed as though nothing would happen.

Wynne squeezed my hand and we waited, waited to see history unfold before us. The Revered Mother took her place on the dais, standing before the throne, waiting for the king to be.

_I cannot believe this day is happening_, I thought, savoring the fine, textured silk of the dress that Wynne had given me. _That I am here again, in a royal court, clothed in finery…only now I am a hero in this land. I do not wait to plunge a knife into an unsuspecting back. I do not sing with the intent to seduce. I am here, surrounded by those I have come to love, watching a country re-united. _

The Revered Mother placed her palms flat and lifted them, a signal for us all. On cue, the nobles and the people assembled knelt down, bowing their heads.

I lifted my eyes, watching as Salem and Alistair entered the room. They walked down the long hallway, their backs straight, shoulders squared, looking every inch a royal couple. I felt the prick of tears as I remembered how easily this might have been two ceremonies…a coronation and wedding both.

How grateful I was that Salem had chosen me. Above a crown, above the opportunity to bring widespread peace to a land too long torn asunder. A single tear fell and I did not bother to wipe it away.

I watched the eyes of multiple young women melt at the sight of Alistair, the muscles that strained against the tight material, the mellow amber flames in his eyes. My lips quirked upward in a grin as I realized that the shy, self-effacing warden would have his fill of court flirtations and women with designs on him.

But while Alistair struck an imposing figure, he could not hold a candle to my warden. I had never seen Salem look like this. Her hair had been cut and lay in loose waves that tumbled to her shoulders. Her kind blue eyes shone out with hope. The scar on her face was not a disfigurement, but a sign of the sacrifices she had made to bring this day into existence. And yet, for love of Alistair and Ferelden, she concealed the aura of strength and comfort and peace that had always emanated from her. She reined in the ferocity with which she fought, choosing to let another step into the light.

She had chosen to wear the warden colors of gold and black, though she had the right to Cousland's deep blue and silver, and Alistair would have clothed in her matching crimson had he been given the right to choose, placing her at his side as an honorary Theirin. Giving her his name…as he had always longed to do, and would continue in that longing. One did not simply fall out of love with Salem Cousland. I knew that all too well.

The golden griffon of the Grey Warden order had been embroidered on the breast of Salem's tunic. An extinct creature, and a noble who clung to anachronistic principles. It suited her. The majesty, the symbolism, painful as it was. The time of her and those like her was quickly coming to a close. Such thoughts saddened me.

Even so, I could not keep my eyes off of her as she ascended the stairs, the loose fitting pants that she wore obscuring the definition of her body. A body that had been abused, pushed past limits…even killed for a land that would never know the gifts that she had given them, or the pain she had endured for the thousands who could not fight back. Her rippling tunic fluttered behind her, obscuring the slight limp that had yet to fade.

My smile dampened as I recalled Wynne telling me in confidence that Salem's leg might never fully heal. The bone had been broken too badly to completely repair…even healing magic had its limits. She would still be able to fight, to run…but she would be in pain when storms came, or with over-exertion.

_I know the ache of old wounds all too well. Were the scars not enough? Must she also be reminded of that final, devastating battle where so much was lost? It would seem the old tales are all too true. There is little mercy for a warrior. _

They reached the Revered Mother and Salem placed her hand on Alistair's shoulder, squeezing it gently. She withdrew to the side of the room, across from Cauthrien, who had done heroic deeds of her own in the siege of Denerim, re-earning the honor that had been lost in her service to Loghain.

The knight's neck tightened as she looked at Salem, a reminder of what she would forever consider her failures. I could not help but chafe that she stood in a place of honor. I knew Alistair intended to make the woman the First Knight of the Realm, as she was the first to swear fealty. But I was not Salem. I could not forgive her for the horrors she had made my warden endure. How she had stood silent and approving as Salem was beaten within an inch of her life. How she had not protested when my warden was struck with the lash.

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to claw my way out from beneath the past. This was a day of futures. Of rejoicing. Of peace. I could not retreat into old grievances and furies. I would not damage this moment in any way.

Salem stood next to Shianni, whose appearance had caused quite a stir amongst the nobles of Ferelden. An elf standing in a place of honor in the palace of men…it had not gone over well. But it was a necessary change, and she the strongest voice we had yet met. Salem and Alistair agreed that the elves would require representation as equal citizens of Ferelden, who _would_ become a free nation.

Free for all races, not just humans.

At Cauthrien's right hand stood a dwarven emissary from King Bhelen of Orzammar, who brought with him gifts for the new king of Ferelden as a sign of dwarven good will. Bhelen had taken to Alistair, for a reason that none of us could fathom…even as he had treated Salem with contempt. But I knew the ilk of the dwarven king. He would not make easy friends with those who could not be cowed.

I smiled. Alistair had steel in his spine, some still undiscovered. Bhelen would find a different man as king than the warden he met beneath the earth. A man who had learned to bow his head to no one. A man who had learned his wisdom from a woman who clung to the standards of days past. When justice was blind and adequately tempered with mercy. When faith and love were causes worth fighting for, not emotions to be extorted.

The Revered Mother began reciting the words of the Chant that exhorted kings and laid their mission and duties before them. I watched as Salem smiled; as we witnessed dreams made reality.


	39. Chapter 39

**Salem**

"The lifeblood of a king is the faith of his people." the Revered Mother of Denerim's Chantry poured sweet-scented oil over Alistair's hair, anointing him into his new calling. "Rule in mercy and in justice, never allow knowledge to supplant wisdom, and keep close to you those of good repute and counsel. In all your decisions, remain faithful to the Maker and His words. Do you accept this adjuration?"

"So I swear." Alistair spoke the words of kings past, pledging his life to the land, giving himself over to a greater calling than even that of a Grey Warden.

Eamon stepped forward with a heavily embroidered pillow. On it rested a simple crown, a simple gold band commissioned by Alistair, who had no love of the jewel encrusted travesty that Cailan had worn as a young man seeking glory.

The Revered Mother lifted the crown and set it on Alistair's temples.

"Go in the Maker's grace, Alistair Theirin," she intoned, somber, "and rise a king."

Alistair turned and faced the crowd of nobles who bowed before him, before rising with cheers and adulation. They were too far away to see the blush that entered their monarch's cheeks, the fear that flitted into his gaze, then vanished.

"This is, in truth, a new age." Alistair spoke, his voice commanding, as I had known from the first that it could be. "We have fought our way free from indentured servitude, and we have remained steadfast, though all the forces of darkness were set against us. This age has brought us signs and wonders. This age has brought sweeping change. But…as I have learned, as I have been taught...change, when greeted by those who can envision a brighter future, is _nothing_ to fear."

_Excellent words. _Alistair glanced to me and I nodded my approval. He took a visible deep breath and continued.

"We united as a fractured people to defeat Orlais." he said. "And we united once again to defeat the darkspawn horde. I have walked this country over," he smiled with the remembrances of our insane shared journey, "I have seen the spirit and mettle of its people. No matter the fear, they were unbroken. No matter the controversy, they were unswayed."

_He is a politician and he does not even realize_, I smirked, remembering the men and women who hurled accusations against us, the thieves and thugs and bounty hunters that sought to turn us in for the price on our heads. Ferelden was not so united as he claimed…but offer praise from a high vantage point, and fear will morph into courage. It had always been so, and would continue to be.

"We have a long road before us." his voice rang earnest, full of pride and hope. "There is much to repair. We have lost many, good men and women all, in the conflict that, less than a fortnight ago, ravaged us. But I am not daunted. For when the good fall, there are others who are willing to rise to their names and continue the legacies left behind. With that in mind, I ask that Fergus Cousland stand here at my side."

I watched my brother pale as he ascended to the dais and knelt before his new king. Alistair smiled down at him.

"Rise." ordered the king, and my brother obeyed. "In the name of the king," Alistair placed his hand on Fergus' shoulder and turned him to the crowd, "I restore title and the lands of Highever to House Cousland. All rumor of their treason will be stricken from the records wherein they lie. The actions of this noble house speak for themselves, and shall be rewarded as such."

"I am honored, my liege." Fergus said, audible only to those standing on the dais.

"No, Fergus." Alistair spoke at the same level, where a select few could hear. "It is your honor, yours and your family's, that has brought our land to peace. I am forever in your debt."

"I did naught but my duty, for king and country." Fergus replied and Alistair's eyes shot to mine, filled with incredulity.

I shrugged my shoulders and enjoyed the exaggerated roll of Alistair's eyes.

Fergus stepped down from the dais, his shoulders squared, his head held high, proud to see Cousland's name vindicated by royal edict. There would still be those who had sided with Loghain, who believed against us, whispered words of my family's non-existent treason, but none would dare cause dissent with a newly enthroned king. Especially not a king who had proved his skill with a blade and who had lifted a Blight from the land.

"A king is nothing without those he can trust," Alistair addressed the crowd once more, a light in his face that I did not understand. "And I have been blessed in that regard. I hereby appoint Arl Eamon of Redcliffe as my chief advisor. Ferelden has come this far because of his dedication and support. His armies secured our gates and rescued our families. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten."

This declaration brought cheers from the crowd. Eamon had always been popular, his devout aversion to Loghain had swayed several nobles in our favor, on Eamon's reputation alone. When the adulation died down, Alistair continued speaking.

"But all accomplishments, even mine, fade into a brighter light." Alistair turned to me, smiled, and I cringed.

_Was appearing at his side not enough? Must he drag me forth and parade me before all assembled, speaking words that do not ring in my ears as truth? I am not a hero, not a legend…certainly not a brighter light._

I glanced into the crowd, feeling sweat begin to bead on my brow. My father had been called "the hermit noble" for a reason, a reason that rang true of his children. We did not seek to stand in the eye of the public, or be lauded for what we had done. One did not deserve honor simply for doing what was needed.

My eyes caught Leliana. She frowned at me and jerked her chin in Alistair's direction, forcing me to his side, in the eyes of all of Ferelden's nobility. I sighed once more and did as was required of me, trying not to shrink into myself or shy away from the crowd. For me, the time of feigning strength had come to a close. But...for Alistair's sake...I would wear the mask once more.

"There comes a time," Alistair took my hand in his own, "where many set out to accomplish great deeds. And, in darker moments, only _one_ of many can, against all odds, succeed. This woman, Salem Cousland, _**is**_ that one. It was she who took the tattered fragments of this country and re-wove them into a whole." his voice rose, gathering emotion and intensity. "It was she who fought her way through the darkspawn horde and felled the Archdemon! It was she who spilled so much blood into this earth that she and Ferelden are one and the same! Ladies and gentlemen, nobles, people of Ferelden, I give you the Hero of our land!"

He raised my hand with his and the crowd erupted into wild hysteria, cheering and chanting, deafening me with cries of undeserved adoration. I blushed a furious red, but kept my chin high, my hand lifted, joined with Alistair's.

_It is not I who won this battle_, I sought Leliana out from the crowd and saw the tears of joy streaming from her eyes. _I was a woman with nothing to lose, performing according to a new calling. In truth, it is those who aided us, those who came to our side and did not forsake us, who deserve the credit I am receiving. It is they who should be lauded by the king. Not me. I am…not worthy. _

Alistair relinquished my hand and raised his other, calling for silence. The roar of the crowd dimmed to my thankful ears, and the king turned to face me, wearing a mask of strength when I could see the emotion threatening to drown him.

_To give me such praise without declaring his love…his heart must be breaking. Dearest Alistair…forgive me. There are moments that I look into your face, see your earnestness, your desire, and __**wish**__ beyond all dreaming that I could love you as you love me. I will never forgive myself for causing you this pain, though there is no way it could have been avoided. _

"There are some sacrifices so great," Alistair spoke and there were tears in his voice, though hidden from his eyes, "that nothing can repay them. There are gifts given that can never be honored in their full measure. But I must attempt. Salem Cousland, before all the nobles of Ferelden, I grant you the favor of your king. Ask of me anything, and I will give it, in honor of the freedom and security you have given us."

I shook my head. Alistair took my hand again and squeezed, begging me to say something.

"You know my desires." I turned from the crowd and met his eyes, drowning out the crowd.

"Name it." he whispered.

"Give the elves their freedom." I answered, keeping my voice low so that none but he might hear. "They are a people without a culture, without a nation. That is no reason to treat them as we have. Make them our equals. Give the Dalish their anonymity. Draft laws that prevent and punish anything the equal of the crimes visited on Zathrian's children. Better our relations with the dwarves. Use Bhelen's approval to your advantage, and strengthen Ferelden by increasing trade and understanding with the kingdom beneath the earth. Give the mages further liberties; keep what transpired at the circle from _ever_ happening again. It is when chains are tight that temptations become dearer and abominations are freed. This is a great deal, my king, but it is all that I ask."

"Nothing for yourself?" Alistair asked, staring at me in disbelief, as though he did not think it possible.

I smiled in Leliana's direction. "You have restored my family's honor. And a good man sits on the throne. I have all that I could have ever desired."

"Forgive me, then," he smiled, "for this."

He turned to the crowd once more. "She asks nothing for herself!" he proclaimed. "She asks nothing but advantages for those too often overlooked by those wearing the crown! Therefore, I give the arling of Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, that once again they might be a part of this country, unhindered. And I name Salem Cousland as Ferelden's Warden Commander, and the Arlessa of Amaranthine! She speaks with my authority, and you may consider any edict from her lips as law signed by my hand!"

I gasped in shock as Alistair slanted his eyes at me and gave a devilish grin. "I told you, Salem," he whispered as the crowd began cheering again, "that once I wore the crown, you were mine. You have thrust me into this political mire, do not think you are free from it yourself."

I lowered my head in respect to his station and title. "As you say, my liege."

He scoffed and shook his head, turning to the people again. "Ferelden, long have we been in shadows! Long have we be haunted by death and intrigue! Those days are at an end, as are my speeches! For now, let celebration reign!"

He took my hand in his and we descended from the dais to mingle amongst the people. I sought for one person in particular. All that I desired.


	40. Chapter 40

**Leliana**

After Alistair declared the ceremony ended and descended the dais, he and Salem were immediately surrounded by the people who swarmed for their hero's and king's attention. Servants filed into the hall carrying trays of meticulously prepared delicacies, and lively music filled the Great Hall of Fort Drakon, stringed instruments singing of victory, new days, and the end of trial and sorrow.

I sought Salem out in the throng, seeing the strain on her face. She had no love of this fanfare, no desire for a title she did not believe she deserved. But I knew the truth. Salem Cousland was more a hero than the men and women in the tales that I had memorized. No legend wrote of a warrior who paled at the thought of recognition, who retired from the light easily and with no protestation. Those of legend had lost humility, and for good reason. But Salem did not know the meaning of pride and vainglory. She knew only duty, sacrifice, and love.

I longed for her eyes to meet mine, for her to surge through the crowd and extend her hand to me. But I could not expect such things from her.

_She belongs to everyone, _a bittersweet thought filled my mind. _Alistair spoke truly. She has spilled so much blood upon this earth and for it, that she and Ferelden are one and the same. Thus, she is owned by these people. She is their hero, their protector, their savior. _

_ But it will be my bed she seeks out on cold nights_, I warmed at the thought and smiled. _It will be my hands that take her heart when it is broken. She is __**mine**__, Ferelden. She is mine…and I…am completely hers._

"Might I ask the pleasure of a dance?"

Startled from my reverie, I glanced into shining Cousland eyes. A well-trimmed beard framed a hesitant smile. Fergus extended his hand and, slightly confused, I took it. His arm wrapped about my waist with a practiced ease and he guided me onto the floor in a smooth motion that even an Orlesian prince could not rival.

_Should I say something?_ I wondered. _I do not even know the man…a few words spoken here…a nod there…__**damn**__ Couslands and their mutual ability to leave me tongue-tied!_

"My silence is not helping matters is it?" the eldest Cousland smiled down at me from a slightly higher vantage point than his sister.

"I'm afraid not." I said, suddenly shy.

_Does he know? Did Salem ever find time to tell him…Maker's breath, will he approve of me? Salem holds her family in such high esteem and loves them so…I would not wish to damage her relationship with him…_

"In that case I shall scrabble for words." he twirled me out of his arms and back into them with that same eerie grace his sister possessed when wielding her swords.

In a sudden, sharp movement Fergus drew me closer to him, more of an embrace than a position suited to dancing, and my muscles tensed.

"I am in your debt." he whispered, and I knew this conversation was not meant to be overheard.

I nodded and he let me step back. I gazed at him, body moving idly to the rhythm of strings and flutes, waiting for his next words.

"I have desired to speak to you on more than one occasion." his eyes grew wet. "But it seems the times were always set against us. You…you kept my sister alive. More than once, I imagine. I…is there…is there anything I can do for you, any way I can repay you for the gift you have given me?"

"You owe me no debt, Teyrn Cousland." I spoke, straining to keep my voice steady.

_I still do not know…his true sentiments. I know he harbors no antagonism towards Orlesians, but he still might simply be thanking me as he would Wynne or Oghren. _

He laughed and I found the sound rang pleasantly in my ears, as did Salem's. "Teyrn Cousland?" he asked, incredulous. "That is a ridiculously proper term of address from a woman who is soon to become my sister."

My jaw went slack and I quickly closed my mouth, stricken speechless. Fergus smiled, a much more radiant version of his sister's muted mirth.

"Yes, I know." he filled the gaps in my knowledge. "I saw her signet ring gracing your hand before she had even spoken to me of you. Salem would not part with that unless it were a matter of life and death…or great love."

"I…" I stammered, "I…thank you…Fergus."

"You need not be so formal." he encouraged me. "Though I suppose familiarity will come in time. Salem has always been…lonely." he slipped into conversation as we continued to dance. "Even before the tragedy that Howe wrought on our family. She was never unkind, never reclusive but…her mind always seemed to stay within itself. She is every bit our father. I am glad…when she speaks of you her eyes shine and she smiles as she never has before."

"I love her deeply." I confessed, imagining sitting next to a warm fire in Cousland Hall with Salem and her brother, listening to laughter, hearing stories from my warden's childhood.

_To have a family, after so long with only enemies and friends who were not yet enemies. To be in a comfort I have not known since my mother's long vanished embrace. Could it be that such a pleasant future exists for me? Can I even bring myself to hope that this might come to pass?_

"I know." Fergus squeezed the hand that was linked with his. "And though she is now a symbol of the people, and forever their servant, I can assure you that my sister does nothing half-heartedly. She is yours, Leliana."

Hearing it in a voice that was not Salem's, a voice that had known her from the moment she took first breath, somehow cemented the truth in my mind. My heart began to pound in my chest with a fury that rivaled the frenetic race it had felt when Marjolaine first kissed my cheek in feigned innocence.

"I do not think that any of us can truly own her." I averted my eyes, watching as nobles who had spoken against us in the Landsmeet prostrated themselves before Salem, praising her, thanking her.

"I agree." Fergus nodded. "I tremble to see the wrath that would come to bear should any man try to enslave my sister. In truth, I am shocked she submitted to the Joining."

I remembered my own flight to the Chantry and felt sorrow. "She had nothing left. And it seems Cousland's nature has always been sacrifice."

"In place of an honorable death she would have killed herself with honor." Fergus shook his head and sighed. "But she found a reason to live again, and, forgive my forwardness, a very beautiful one."

I blushed under the tone of his voice and struggled to find words to say, to repay the love that this stranger, who would soon be my brother, was offering.

"Am I going to be forced to challenge my own blood to a duel for fair maiden?" a familiar, beloved voice intervened.

"Salem," Fergus turned to his sister, a devilish glint in his eyes, "why make such a grand gesture only to be trounced before all assembled?"

"Ragamuffin." she taunted.

"Saucy tart." a swift retort.

"Fop."

"Hideous crone!"

"Fools the both of you." I laughed, stepping out of Fergus' arms and into Salem's. "Surely my ruling, as the contested party, will assuage you bloodthirsty backwater excuses for nobility."

"Of course, fair lady." Fergus answered with a theatrical bow as the sun radiated from Salem's smile. "Thank you for the pleasure of the dance."

"Thank _you_, Fergus." I replied, speaking mostly with my eyes, blessing him for my acceptance into his family.

"At last," Salem whispered as she took me in her arms and held me close, beginning the steps to a familiar dance, "I am allowed to be with the only one in this room to whom I wish to speak."

My heart caught in my throat and I did not reply, so filled with joy that all words had been rendered useless.


	41. Chapter 41

**Salem**

My heart welled over as I gazed at the woman in my arms. So rarely had we been given the opportunity to embrace with joy, with pleasure, with comfort and the knowledge of time allowed. All of that, we possessed now.

_There is a song in this heart that had forgotten the joy of music. There is a light in these eyes that had been snuffed out by the countless pools of blood. I have been sundered and re-forged into a different woman…a better woman. _

"Well," Leliana gazed into my eyes like the lovers from legends, and smiled, "this is certainly new. Could it be that for once your thoughts are not shrouded in shadow?"

"Miracles do happen, dear heart." I smiled, feeling all hesitation gone.

_No longer must I be cold and collected. No longer must I subvert my screaming heart and hide my tears in the black of the moon. I am at last free. Free to search out who I have truly become. _

"Tell me what you are thinking." Leliana entreated.

So many times before, in the face of this same request, I had remained silent, afraid of sharing the great burdens that had nearly splintered my shoulders. So many times I had glared at her and she had ceased the inquiry, always with a look of hurt that I had cursed myself for causing.

"I am dreaming, Leliana." I told her as I swept her around the room, unafraid of the prying eyes of nobles.

_Let them know. Let them see the beautiful woman that has guided me through torture and through torment, that has healed my wounds and caused them when needed. Let them know to whom Salem Cousland truly belongs. I am no longer Ferelden's devoted daughter. That time has passed. If my country has need of me, I will answer, but __**she**__ will be at my side. _

"I am dreaming," I squeezed her hand tighter in mine and pulled her closer against me, "of something I never thought I would possess. I am dreaming of our future. I am dreaming of the day that I can fulfill my promise to you and speak vows of devotion before the Maker."

Leliana smiled and ceased dancing, dropping my hand and leaving the floor. I followed after her, not heeding the voices that called out to me. They were not important.

_What is going on_? A niggling hint of worry burrowed beneath my joy. _Surely I have not said something to hurt her, or bring her pain. Maker's breath, what have I done wrong now?_

I followed Leliana into the anteroom where Alistair and I had waited before the coronation. I closed the door behind me and was immediately ambushed by a pair of strong arms that wrapped around me in a fierce embrace. All of my worry vanished.

I smiled and cradled Leliana's head against my shoulder, knowing that the tears that caused her body to tremble were those of joy.

"Salem," she stepped out of my embrace and took my scarred hands in her own, "forgive me. I did not mean to flee, I was simply…overcome."

"I could spend a century with you and find no fault." I promised, unable to keep the smile from my face.

I had never before known this surge of absolute, pure, pristine…hope. _A dragon could descend and I would march into battle with this smile stamped on my countenance forever more. _

More tears pooled in Leliana's eyes and fell, even though her smile rivaled mine for intensity and radiance.

"This is…this is beyond what I had ever imagined." she whispered. "As a young girl I read the legends and dreamed of a love such as those written in the tales…of a lover with a kind heart and strong hands, pure of spirit and beautiful. I thought I…so many times was I deceived that those hopes died along with the innocence of that child."

"I know." I reached out and brushed the tears from her face with the pad of my thumb, cherishing the satin smoothness of her skin.

"You don't." she assured me, reaching up and linking our fingers, keeping my palm pressed against her cheek. "You truly do not. Too many times, Salem, too many times I thought I had found what I sought. From the lovers I took as a young woman, to Marjolaine…all bitter, bitter disappointments and heartbreaks. I never wanted to love again."

I remembered her screaming those same words at me in the Frostback mountains, the sheer anguish that had been stamped on her face. I never wished to see such pain again.

"You have told me as much." I replied, throat tight with emotion.

"Oh, my love, I had built so many walls." she pressed my hand to her lips and kissed it, examining the scars. "I had locked my heart behind layers of mistrust and hesitancy. And you…you tore them all down with a glance. When I saw, from the first, your capacity for mercy, when I heard the words with which you quelled arguments and challenged demons, I thought myself trapped in some sorcery. You are beyond the meager joys I thought my life would hold…you are beyond the majesty legends can relay."

I leaned forward and placed my lips against hers, confirming that I was real, in this world, not a figment of her dreaming. Her words for me were the stuff of legends, confessions written into plays meant for the stage. They were not words uttered by mortal men…but we had brought down dragons and gods. We were no longer quite…human.

"I see I have no longer rendered you speechless." I grinned, breaking the kiss.

"How can such kindness exist for me?" my bard wondered, looking into my eyes without fear. "You…and your brother…he welcomed me with open arms, Salem. He does not even know me and he called me his sister. How is such…such _goodness_ even possible?"

_Thank you, Fergus. And thank you mother, and father, for instilling in us your values of love and justice, mercy and compassion. I have been blessed beyond comprehension. _

"I have no answer for you, Leliana." I smiled, listening to the music on the other side of the door. "But I will search them out, if you so desire. Come with me to Cousland Hall. Fergus has restored it and he relayed to me his wishes that we join him there once this is finished. Alistair has given me leave to do so. Say you will, dear heart."

She laughed. "As if there is anywhere I would rather be than your side. Yes, my love. Wherever you go, I will follow you."

I kissed her again, with joy, happiness, indescribable peace. She returned it with equal fervency and fire and we broke apart, gasping.

"My darling," she grabbed my hand and started for the door, "much as I would love to pursue this, divest you of your clothing and show you the gates of heaven, I am afraid we have these final festivities to suffer through."

I nodded, attempting to breathe deeply and calm my racing heart. _Yes. Just one more night. One more night and then, my beautiful Leliana, I am going to take you and give you the one thing you have never had. A home. With me. Where we will be, at last, at peace._


	42. Chapter 42

**Leliana**

"…and after the sun came out once more..." Salem fell silent, the words of her tale falling from her lips as we crested the hill.

She reined in her horse and inhaled sharply, gazing at the walls of the city that rose before us, not too far into the distance. Lush green grass waved in the wind, brushing against the legs of our horses. The ride from Denerim had been pleasant…_and somewhat awkward, if I admit the truth_.

We were unaccustomed to the simple presence of only the other. We had been taking tentative steps, sharing some stories of our lives before the Blight, but most of the time we simply rode alongside each other in companionable silence, cherishing the peace.

Salem's blue eyes were faraway, and I felt a bit of fear enter my veins. I did not know if she was lost in memories or in nightmares, but I knew that my warden's spirit was no longer alongside mine as she gazed at her ancestral home.

_This is not the first time I have wondered if returning here would be what is best for Salem. There is so much pain here for her. And yet she comes back. She always clings to that which is dear to her, no matter the suffering involved…I should know. She has never turned me away. _

"It's beautiful." I whispered, trying to call her back to me.

The dark grey stone rose against the crystal clarity of the sky, a proud blue standard flapping in the wind, a silver rampant mabari seeming to dance upon it. It was not the grandest castle I had ever seen, but it was the most welcome. I had hopes of my own, hopes of dwelling there with my love, finally finding an earth in which to set roots.

_I want to take her name as my own. To belong to something of such nobility and honor…to create a new life again. As Leliana, the woman who wears no masks._

"Highever," Salem spoke, her voice hoarse as though from ill-use, "the gem of Ferelden. Maric gave it to my father in thanks…giving the less desirable territory of Gwaren to Loghain." she snorted. "Yet another slight against his name that Loghain chafed against."

Her voice became even more sorrowful as she urged her horse into a slow walk. I applied a gentle tap to my mount's flanks and joined her, ever-watchful.

"What are you thinking, my love?" I asked.

"Of how easily it was to refer to him in past tense." Salem shuddered as though cold. "My father had no love for the man and neither did I, but…some days I still wish it had not ended with his death. I wonder…"

"What became of Anora?" I finished her question as her words trailed into the wind.

Salem sighed. "Foolish, I know." she admitted, turning her face to mine. "Her mother's family hails from Nevarra. She has relatives there who would be willing to take her in."

"Salem, why…"

"After all this time and all that has happened do I think of such things?" she smiled, but it was as faraway as her eyes. "Anora and I…Maker, we were young. Young and foolish and somewhat more than friends. Nothing ever came of it; it was years ago besides."

A wash of memories returned to me…Salem's familiarity with Anora in Howe's estate; her willingness to let Loghain live. I had thought at the time it was for the sake of an old friendship lost. But no.

"Is that why Cailan and Anora never had a child? She did not prefer the company of men?" I wondered, not wanting Salem to stay locked within memories that _had_ to be unpleasant.

"It very well may have been." Salem mused. "Though Anora did love him." she shook her head. "It does not matter now, does it? Both of us found happiness. Somehow, I managed to keep mine."

She reached across the gap and squeezed my hand as we entered the open gates of Highever's capital, Cousland Hall's parapets rising above the rest of the city. I thought it quite small for a capital, but when I considered the nature of the bloodline that had built it, it did not strike me as odd.

We rode through the city, watching the people mill about the streets and bargain in the markets. Salem smiled to see prosperity restored to her countrymen, the pained expression on her face easing as she felt the peace in her city. I expected to see what I had before. The people of the city greeting their noble with waving and smiles, bows of respect and wide-opened mouths of children.

Instead, Salem merely received nods as from one countryman to another. I glanced around, seeing recognition on none of their faces. I knew Bryce Cousland had been a recluse, but surely here, in the home of Cousland Hall, his children would be well-known.

"Salem, what is happening?" I asked as we continued towards the castle.

Her lips were pinched and her eyes were swirling with deep, nightmarish sorrow. "It is all right." she swallowed the lump in her throat. "They do not recognize me. I suppose I am much changed from the woman they once knew."

_There is silver in her hair now, and lines on her face where before there were none. Her shoulders have broadened and there are…new scars. So many new scars. Let me take your pain, my love. Please, let me take on part of this burden. You need carry it yourself no longer._

We reached the gates to Cousland Hall and the guards crossed their spears.

"Open the gates." Salem spoke, her voice calm, carrying the low authority I had grown accustomed to.

"Cousland Hall is closed." one of the men spoke. "No one is allowed through the gates until Teyrn Fergus returns from Denerim. Be on your way."

Salem nodded and began to wheel her horse around and I stared at her in shocked disbelief. _You, too, are of Cousland blood! Why do you not inform them of your identity? Are you reluctant to return, or so disheartened that you no longer care? _

"Are you gone daft?" a new voice broke in and Salem stopped short, turning her head. "That's Bryce Cousland's little girl, you fools!"

I stared at the grey-haired woman who had emerged from the gatehouse, bearing a basket heaped full with produce.

"Nan?" Salem asked, flinging herself out of the saddle and approaching the woman. "Is it you? You survived?"

"By the stars and old gods." I saw tears gather in Nan's eyes. "Salem Cousland. You've your father's eyes and your mother's face. I'd know them anywhere."

She wrapped my warden in a fierce hug and the guards dropped to their knees, placing their fists over their breasts in a show of fealty.

Then they set about opening the gates.

Nan held Salem at arm's length and examined every inch of her, from the roughspun linen she wore to the scar on her cheek, which Nan traced with worn fingertips.

"Fergus sent word by pigeon that you had survived, my lady." she spoke, clearly in awe of the woman who I assumed she had watched grow up in this very home. "And that you had managed the impossible and slain the Archdemon and ended the Blight! I could scarcely believe," she placed her hand across her heart, "I could scarcely believe the truth of it. But you are here now and all is well." She kicked the basket at her feet with disdain. "This simply will not do. I must prepare a feast and tell the rest of the staff that you have returned! Oh, there shall be joy within our walls tonight. You," she jabbed her fingers at the gate guards, "spread the news without the city. Salem Cousland has returned!"

The guards obeyed the woman's orders without question and Nan clasped her hands together, unable to keep her eyes from Salem.

_I have never seen a servant so…overjoyed at their master's presence. The Couslands truly are a strange breed. _

"You must be weary," Nan bustled about, collecting her basket from the ground, "I shall see to it that your room is made ready and a hot bath drawn for you and your companion."

"My intended." Salem smiled, and my heart leapt as the expression of joy on Nan's face intensified.

"Then there is to be a wedding!" she exclaimed. "Maker's breath, child, but you always were unpredictable. You and that hound." she pointed her chin at Burrow. She directed her brown eyes to mine. "Welcome, child." she spoke and my heart burned from the immediate acceptance. "Salem's manners were always something close to atrocious. I have been in service to the Cousland family since Bryce was a wee lad, Maker rest his soul. You may call me Nan."

"Well met." I extended my hand and she grasped it in a firm grip. "I am Leliana."

"She's quite lovely." Nan gave Salem a nod of approval. "You deserve to be happy, Salem. Come inside, come inside. It has been too long but…"

"Nan," Salem placed a calming hand on the woman's shoulder, "please. All in good time…"

The brown eyes filled with understanding and sorrow. "Of course. Your father's favorite overlook. You know the one."

"Bless you, Fergus." Salem kissed Nan on the cheek and mounted once again. "We will return shortly."

Wordlessly, I followed Salem out of the city, across the rippling plains of grass, up to a copse of trees on a small hill. I turned back and gazed at the city, so serene and beautiful.

"This was my father's favorite place." Salem dismounted and ran her hands along the trunk of an ancient oak. "He would come here with a loaf of bread a cheese and a bottle of wine…sit and meditate on the state of affairs, or on a particularly difficult decision. He said there was such great peace here; that he felt close to the Maker."

She walked a little further into the copse of trees and I followed, uncertain of whether or not I should leave her to her memories.

_No_, my heart intervened_, too long has she borne all this pain alone. I will be here for her, as she was for me…so many times. _

There were two granite monuments erected in the center of the circle of trees, carved with the names of Bryce and Eleanor. It was a simple grave. There were no sigils of nobility in the stone, nothing that marked them as a man and woman of high birth. It was unassuming, noble, humble…perfect.

Salem dropped to her knees before them, arms limp at her side. There were no tears on her face. Her lips quivered, even though she smiled. She reached out and traced their names with quaking fingertips, that mysterious smile still perched on her lips.

I knelt behind her and wrapped my arms about her waist, laying my head on her shoulder in a silent show of support.

Salem's other hand covered my own, and she whispered two words that pierced my heart like arrows, even though they were not meant for me.

"I'm home."


	43. Chapter 43

**Salem**

The wind caressed me and I shivered, thankful for Leliana's warmth at my back. I could not name the emotion coursing through me. It was not joy, for there was too much pain here for that. It was not sorrow, as I could not summon tears.

_Perhaps it is…relief. Until this moment there has been a pressure on my spine, a weight on my shoulders, a nameless hunger that could not be sated. Now…now I have all I have ever wanted. The woman I love at my side, my home restored and prosperous, my land at peace._

I leaned back into Leliana's embrace and gazed at the sky, basking in the beauty of the Highever sunset. "I love you." I whispered.

"I am yours." she replied as her arms tightened around me. "But it is getting late, my love. Shall we go home?"

"Home?" I turned in her embrace, shocked at the tone of my voice.

Exuberant, giddy, like a child.

Her laugh was music to my ears, a sonata of lilting, laughing strings. "You are my home, Salem. And this is where you are happy. Therefore, it is my home as well, and will always be."

All the world stood still, and I stared at her, transfixed. _How is it that we have been through so much hell, breathed life into each other's souls, and her words can still shock me in such a manner. _

Her eyes filled with apprehension and she frowned. "Have I said something wrong?" she asked, innocent, the both of us exploring the strangeness of the other's company without the threat of interruption or bloodshed. "I did not mean to be presumptuous, I simply thought…"

"Perfect." I spoke, and my voice was hoarse with emotion. "Maker's breath, ancient gods…you're perfect."

"Salem…"

The embers of the setting sun cast a glow on her hair, turning it to a rusty gold. Sparkles danced across her eyes and I remembered how she looked on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, body as taut as her bowstring, eyes flaming, a halo of light surrounding her, even during an eclipse. Fiercer than an avenging angel; purer than driven snow, more beautiful than a goddess.

My heaven on earth.

"I love you." I leaned forward and kissed her.

Her lips pressed against mine, equally as eager. Our touches through this journey had been hesitant, as though we were uncertain that they were welcome. A fleeting kiss, the odd squeeze of hand…like two young women who had just met and were ill-at-ease with their emotions. We had slept apart, awash in dreams too sweet to chance their shattering in the waking world.

My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in her rose gold hair, pressing her to me, teasing her lips with my teeth. A soft sound of surprise greeted me as I slid my tongue along her own, and I felt a spike of fire shoot down my spine, pleasant.

"Salem…" she placed a hand to my chest, and my hands loosened, "here?"

She looked past me to the headstones and I understood her question. _No bodies lie beneath the earth. There is no chance for sacrilege._

"They are but monuments." I assured her, kissing her, tracing my lips across her jawline and down her neck. "Memories of the dead and I am _alive _and I…" I pulled away and gazed into her eyes, "I _want _you, Leliana."

I reached for the laces of her shirt and she did not protest. Gently, I untied the leather and untangled the lacings, lifting her shirt over her head. I laid it aside on the ground and made quick work of her breastband, admiring the perfection and flaws of her body.

I ran my hands up and down her arms, admiring their strength, even as I knew their capacity for gentleness. I embraced her and kissed her once more, tracing my fingers up and down the skin of her back. She gasped and stiffened as her nerves awakened under my touch, not resisting as I laid her down against the lush grass of Highever, a more comfortable mattress than the finest Orlesian down.

I hovered above her, drowning in her limpid, oceanic eyes. I kissed the hollow of her throat and she gasped, arching her body against mine as I traced my fingers up and down her side, feeling the softness of her skin and the incredible smooth scarring along her body.

I placed my lips against hers once more, pouring into her everything I could not say as I ran my palm over her breast. A low moan vibrated against my lips and I circled her nipple with my thumb, feeling it harden under my touch, and soon, it was not enough.

I needed her, her skin against mine, our hearts and souls and minds and bodies as one. I rose to my knees and jerked my shirt off, wincing in my thoughts as I remembered the new scars. I knew she had seen them and said nothing, but that did not make their presence any more palatable.

_I want to give you something perfect; something that can match your beauty. _

"Stop that." Leliana's fingers whispered over the deep crimson scarring left by the Archdemon. "You are beautiful and I love you."

"Then I need nothing else." I breathed.

I lowered my lips to the taut skin of her stomach, pressing them against her the scars, knowing their sensitivity, knowing that I could wring pleasure from them instead of pain. Her breath grew shallow as I traced my fingers along the inner seam of her leg, teasing her through the thin linen that she wore.

Her hand grasped my hair and pulled as her body began to tremble. I smiled and lifted my head, rising to her breasts, planting a gentle kiss on each of them before I grasped her nipple between my teeth. She cried out and the wind carried it away as I nipped and laved, torturing her with tongue and lips.

"Maker," she gasped as her body spasmed, "_Salem_," my lips curved into a smile as she whimpered, "_**please.**_"

Never one to deny her whatever I could give, I rose from her breast and lay alongside her, savoring the moment as she attacked me with hungry, frantic lips. I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her pants, running it up and down her thigh.

She bit my lower lip and her fingernails gripped my shoulder with such ferocity I felt skin break. I reached between her legs and found her slick, eager, and a deep fire settled in my gut.

_You are my everything, Leliana. I wish to spend the rest of my days with you, learning you, touching you, tasting you, healing you. You are my music and my soul, my radiant light in darkness. I will always know where you are, for your spirit burns within mine. Without you I do not know myself, for you are the one that made me. _

I slipped my fingers into her core, cherishing her contented sigh more than I would have a cry of passion, for I knew what it meant. Her hips bucked against my hand and I nibbled along the shell of her ear as I re-acquainted myself with the rhythm of her body.

"You are so beautiful." I whispered as I continued the motion of my hand, listening to the sighs become sweet, soft moans. "And I am blessed. To be with you, to hold you," I kissed her, gentle, "this is all the paradise I could have wanted."

I thrust deeper into her as I inhaled her scent and kissed along her neck. Her nails raked down my back and I hissed as a deep ache settled between my legs. I ignored it. There would be time…later. This night was for Leliana. To give her what she had so often given me. Comfort. Pleasure. Peace.

She pressed against me, insistent, and her eyes took on that frenzied, faraway look that I loved so much. I continued the motion of fingers and hand, feeling every small quake in her body as she drew ever nearer to the edge. Her muscles tensed around my fingers and I slowed my pace, touching every nerve, evoking every sensation.

Leliana's mouth opened in a wordless cry, her body shuddering as she fell over the edge. Her teeth latched onto my shoulder and strangled sounds of pleasure crackled across my skin. I held her tight to me, never wishing to let go, holding her as she descended back to earth.

Suddenly her hand was on my cheek and her lips were against mine and I could taste her tears. Tears of joy and wonder. Tears of love and passion. Good tears…after so long…good tears.

Slowly, I removed my hand and brought my fingers to my lips, tasting sweet and salt…Leliana. She laughed, low in her throat and kissed the tip of my nose as I drew her body further against mine and together, we watched the moon rise.

_Death and rebirth._ I thought, idly playing with Leliana's hair. _All things to their time. _

"You are," Leliana spoke, still breathless, "so endlessly good to me."

I laughed as I watched the stars appear in the sky, feeling as if they shone their light for my joy. "Welcome home, dear heart."


	44. Chapter 44

**Leliana**

_Maker, you are so lovely_, I gazed at Salem in the softer light of the moon as we rode towards Highever's capital.

The gentle light smoothed her fair skin, removing the faint lines that I had begun to see etched around the corners of her eyes and lips. Worry lines…sorrow lines…age's lines. Salem was but one year my junior, and her life had been one of relative ease until the Blight struck.

To see the damage that had been wrought on her from the Joining, the battles, the worries, the pain, the wounds…it seemed wrong. Wrong that the Maker's most devout champion's skin was more scar tissue than flesh, that her bones had been broken too many times. Wrong that her life, which should have been rich and long and well-lived…would be cut short to a cruel thirty years…if we were lucky.

We were not often lucky.

_And now, as she seems replete with joy, it is my thoughts that drift to darkness. How can this be; I am happier than I have ever been. I am…_

"Strange," Salem broke the silence, "most people hide their thoughts beneath the moon. Why does it seem that yours are ever more transparent?"

I blushed, slightly ashamed that she could see my emotions and my thoughts so clearly. "Perhaps because I wish you to see what I cannot say."

"Are you unhappy?" she asked, sounding so serious I nearly lost my composure.

"Maker, no!" I laughed from the surprise.

"Then why are there shadows in your eyes?" she asked, sounding so earnest, so open…I had become accustomed to prying truths from Salem at the edge of a blade.

This was new…and beautiful.

I went back to my thoughts, reflecting on the cruelty of the Maker, on the cruelty of Fate…the letter tucked safely away in my satchel, still unseen by Salem's eyes, still unknown. I had meant to show her, to tell her, discuss the future that such a thing could bring about but…as we had neared Highever the light in her eyes had grown more intense, her smile easier to spring to her face, her laughter a song I heard more and more often. I did not want to dampen that joy or end that light.

I wanted the woman I had lain with earlier, the one who spoke to me now with an overflowing heart and a mind so keen and gentle that it eroded defenses with a whisper. I wanted to learn everything about her...wanted to remain at her side forever.

"I was dwelling on how…unfair…life has been to us, my love." I breathed, hating the revelation.

I could see a similar shadow enter Salem's eyes, marring the light, marring the death, marring the lust. She shook her head, smiled, and the shadow vanished, simple as that.

"If we continually meditate on the random whims of gods and the intricacies of fate, than any chance of joy is lost to us." Salem stated her mind. "Can we…simply be? And not think? And not dream and not want and not hope? Those things are all…for the future…I have lived in the what-might-be and the why-this-was for too long, Leliana. I want but to live…and well…for however long I may."

"As you say," I smiled, feeling darkness vanish away at her words.

We entered the gates of Highever's capital and my jaw dropped. Scores of people lined the streets, cheering, waving the Cousland banner, the torchlight making the rampant mabari flash and seem alive. Burrow sat back on his haunches and howled, causing yet more joyous uproar.

I looked at the faces of old men, watching tears slide down their weathered cheeks. Young men in clad in chain mail and the blue and silver livery of House Cousland raised their swords and placed the flats of the blade against their breast in a show of fealty and honor. Children gazed at my warden in awe, their mouths open in tiny 'o's of wonder. No doubt they had been told that their liege lord's sister, the voice of the king and Ferelden's Hero, was here, in their very city.

Old women clasped their hands and placed them against their lips, as if overcome with joy…as if their own child had returned home after the war. These people had lost so much under the terrible, if brief, reign of the treacherous Arl Howe. Fergus had routed his invading force, and Salem had killed the man…she was their hero twice over.

I glanced to my warden and watched her eyes fill with tears; watched her lips curve into a smile. And then, she did what no noble I had ever accompanied on a triumphant return, and there had been many, had done.

Salem dismounted her horse and tucked its reins in Burrow's teeth, trusting the hound to lead her mount safely. She walked to her people, taking their hands, embracing them, reaching out to them even though, by all standards, by all laws ever written in the hands of men, she was above them.

She swung a small boy up in the air and settled his chubby legs about her shoulders, walking back to me with a ridiculous smile on her face.

"This, Elric, is the Lady Leliana." she spoke in a grave, somber voice, and the child extended his hand to me.

I took it, charmed but confused. What need had Salem to introduce me?

Salem craned her neck until her eyes locked with little Elric. "Can you keep a secret?" she spoke in a false whisper.

The child gravely nodded his head.

Salem jerked her chin towards me and grinned like a feral cat. "Lady Leliana is the true Hero of Ferelden."

"But you…" the child protested, looking from me to Salem, bewildered.

"No." Salem shook her head. "She did it all. But shhhhh, do not tell another soul. This is between you and me."

The child's wide brown eyes blinked and he nodded his head, grasping the importance of the situation. "Yes, Lady Cousland."

"Right then." she smiled and swung him from her shoulders, setting him to the earth with as much care as she would exhibit were he her own child. "Off you go, little one. You," she ordered with false imperiousness, "off of that horse this instant!"

I laughed and took her hand as she helped me dismount, gazing into her eyes and falling in love, deeper, further, faster than the last time. "You are a liar and a coward." I accused her. "Telling that poor child such a grievous untruth."

Salem took my hand and we walked through the crowd to a chorus of "Maker's blessings, milady!" "Ferelden and House Cousland eternal!" "Long live House Cousland!" "Welcome home!"

"It is the truth as I see it." Salem squeezed the hand she held and I could scarcely believe the woman standing before me.

Beautiful, as she had ever been. Gracious, as she had ever been. Unbelievable, as she had ever been. But happy. Happy as I had never seen her. Joyful as I had never known she could be. Gone were her creased brows, her calculating eyes, her stern demeanor.

_This is Salem Cousland_, I realized. _A side of her I have never seen…a woman of high birth and __**powerful**__ blood that is not content to sit above her people. She walks among them, makes their joys her own, their sorrows her worries, their pain her burden. If she has always been this way, then it is no surprise that she succeeded in her mission to end the Blight. It is no surprise that, caring for Alistair as she did, she allowed him his weakness because she knew her strength could compensate. _

_ I want this._ I glanced at the swirl of people, men and women and children who took my hand and clapped me on the shoulder and thanked me in the rough Ferelden accent with which Salem herself spoke, content to speak as her countrymen spoke…unlike others, who hired tutors to train their voices out of such habits.

_I __**want**__ all of this. This love, this belief, this caring, this kindness. I want to be like Salem…someone deserving of this acclaim and this affection that I have never seen. I have seen crowds gather for their lords, out of respect, out of duty, oftentimes out of fear. This, I have never witnessed. I have never seen the masses assemble out of __**love**__._

We reached the inner gates to Cousland Hall, Burrow and the horses following faithfully behind us. Salem turned to the crowd and smiled.

"Highever." she spoke in the clear, crisp tone that had raised armies and felled gods. "I…I do not deserve this. I…I failed you."

_What in hell?_

I watched sorrow enter the faces of the people as they remembered the horrors of an attack from within their gates.

"I failed to save my father and mother…I failed to fight to my last breath for you. This reception…so warm, so welcoming, I am undeserving. Please, my people, find it in your hearts to forgive me."

A din of mass outcry reached my ears, the people screaming out their protests for this needless apology. I looked to Salem and saw the grief on her face; that she did not wish to speak these words even though her soul would never be unburdened if she did not. She did not want to relive that night. It still slipped into her nightmares. Too many nights had I woken to the tears on her face, her eyes locked wide in horror and self-recrimination.

"Milady, please!" a single, thunderous voice rang out from the throng and man in armor and Cousland livery stepped out into the small circle created by the horses. I could tell that he possessed some rank in the guard, for the rest quieted at his words.

"Lady Cousland," he spoke, gruff, "the loss of your mother and father is not one easily recovered from. Nor was watching a traitor's flag raised over your ancestral home any form of pleasure. But if you think for a moment that _**any of us**_ harbors any ill will towards you, then you are sadly mistaken! There is a Theirin on the throne, a Blight ended, and peace at last! Had you not lived, we would have perished! And though your brother has been named Teyrn, and though he is our liege lord, the people of Highever will forever swear fealty to _**all **_members of House Cousland."

A roar of assent at that, and tears lined Salem's weary, beautiful eyes. "Thank you." she spoke, though it was clear she strained to speak above a whisper. "Please…no more of this. Go to your homes, love your husbands and wives, play with your children, drink with your friends. Be at peace."

All assembled bowed low and I smiled, never having seen this love between a lord and their people. Salem shocked me again by returning the gesture, going to one knee. I scanned the crowd, seeing no signs of surprise on any other face but my own.

We entered the gates and I turned to Salem. "What was that?" I questioned.

"What?" she asked, walking the stone steps to the front door of Cousland Hall.

"You…bowing to them." I wondered. "I do not understand."

Salem laughed and threw her arm around my shoulder. "Without a people to support them, who honor them, a noble is nothing but a man or woman. We owe our every success to those who endure us and allow us our position. Therefore, every Cousland has bowed to their people in thanks."

I turned her to me, sharp, fierce, and insistent. "I want this." I stated, blunt. "I want…what you are. I desire to be someone worthy of honor…someone who does not inspire fear, whose name is spoken of in something _other _than a whisper."

"You are all of this already." she assured me, sealing her promise with a kiss.

"I have been so many things, Salem…and all of them pale in comparison to you." I spoke the truth, as _**I**_ saw it. "My love, would it be…too much…too forward if I ask, that when we are wed, you allow me to take your name."


	45. Chapter 45

**Salem**

I stared at Leliana in shock, stunned by the request, in awe at the earnest look in her eyes.

"My name?" I asked as the doors to Cousland Hall opened and light spilled over the stairs.

"Please?" her hands squeezed mine and drew me in closer. "I can no longer remember my mother's surname, it has been so long; I was so young when she died. I was never truly Cecile's daughter and thus never took her name. With Marjolaine I was simply 'nightingale', at the Chantry, 'Sister Leliana'. I…I want to belong to something wonderful, something so strong and bright that nothing can sunder it. Something permanent."

_And I am your permanence? Maker, I adore you. _

"Hmmmm." I considered the option, looking off into the distance, determined to tease her. "I am uncertain. I believe one Salem is certainly enough for the world."

"How dare you mock me!" she exclaimed in false anger, which melted into a heart-rending smile. "I do not know if it is even possible…a marriage such as ours…if it would be legal. But to carry you always with me…to finally belong…somewhere. A name, a home, a family. It would fulfill my one remaining dream."

"Everything I have is yours." I promised her, watching as a shadowed figure obscured the light pouring from the door, "My home, my heart…and even my name, if you desire it."

"Leliana Cousland." she experimented with the sound, her pleased smile indicating that she did, indeed, find it to her liking.

_As do I. Immensely. It sounds, somehow…fitting. _

"I could very easily become accustomed to hearing that." I told her, suddenly finding my desires alongside hers. Proof that we would forever be bound. Together. "I love you."

I linked my arm with hers and we ascended the stairs. I attempted to simply see my home…not the stones where blood had been splattered, not the phantom forms of bodies that lay slaughtered. Distant, in my ears, I heard the sounds of swords clashing, screams of men and women beset by enemies that masqueraded as allies.

I heard my mother scream…watched her fall under Howe's swordsmen as she defended my father's dying body.

My throat felt as though it began to close and every single scar on my body began to ache as my heart pounded furiously in my chest. I stumbled as my right leg gave out under a sudden spike of pain.

Leliana wrapped her arm about my waist and took my weight.

"Salem," her voice was thick with worry, "are you all right? What's happening…Maker's breath, you're in pain."

"I'm…all right." I gasped, leaning heavily on her, cursing under my breath as I saw the shadowed figure at the door begin to move down the steps.

"You're not." she lifted my arm around her shoulders and moved closer. "Stay still."

"I'm…fine." I growled as Nan reached us, her eyes tight with concern.

"Mistress Leliana, what happened?" she asked as she moved to my other side. "Salem, Salem, are you well, child?"

"Salem is still recovering from injuries received at Fort Drakon." Leliana blithely lied. "And we traveled here perhaps too speedily. Please, Nan, if we could just get her inside; she needs rest."

I turned my face into Leliana's shoulder, so that Nan could not see the pain stamped on my features.

"Of course." Nan eagerly complied as she helped Leliana take my weight. "I've had the east wing of the house prepared for you and baths drawn. Would you like a meal delivered to you?"

"We would consider it a great kindness." Leliana smiled as they helped me up the stairs, across the familiar stone floors that were, for me, strewn with nightmares…gruesome reminders of my failure.

_You left them_, the thoughts I had repressed for long months came _**screaming**_ to the forefront of my mind. _You left your people to be butchered by men no better than rutting dogs. Your nephew was slaughtered in the room __**next**__ to you; your brother's beloved brutalized and __**raped **as you slept!__ And you left them…you left your father bleeding and you watched your mother die and you have the __**gall**__ to return to this place? _

_ Can you hear them, Salem? Can you hear their screams, their pleas for a champion? You saved all of Thedas; where was that strength when __**those you loved most**__ needed it!? Where was it __**then**__!? _

Tears coursed down my cheeks as phantom pain attacked my body; every wound received on my journeys caught fire, reminding me that I had left Cousland Hall unscarred. My muscles began to tremble as Nan opened a door and led us into one of the hall's many guest rooms.

_Bless you, Nan_. I thought the words I could not speak. _You knew it would be too painful…to return up those stairs…to stand where I stood on that night. _

Leliana settled me on the edge of the bed as I tightened every part of my body, trying to remain strong…so that none but the one I trusted could see me in this state.

"Is there anything I can do?" Nan asked. "We've a healer here, if she should require one. Anything you need, Mistress Leliana, simply ask."

Leliana looked into my eyes and read my thoughts…that I wished, very much, to be alone.

"Thank you, Nan, but I believe a good night's rest will be all that she needs. Please, do not over-work or worry yourself on our account."

"I've worried for Salem since she came into the world," Nan fussed about the room and I felt as though I would scream from the pressure of holding myself together. "But I will take my leave. Goodnight, my dear."

"Dream sweetly, Nan." I forced a smile as she patted my cheek, hating her frown as she felt the damp of tears.

She closed the door and Leliana flew to my side as I began to shake uncontrollably. Her arms wrapped around me, the strength she always exuded flowing over me in comforting waves.

"Salem, what can I do?" she whispered, knowing the horror in my eyes.

She had felt it herself, in Howe's dungeons…her private hell, as this was mine.

"Make them be quiet." I wept, feeling so very cold, huddling against her for warmth. "They…they're screaming at me, Leliana. I can hear them…asking me why."

My bard pulled the down quilt from the bed and wrapped it around me, joining me under it as I continued to shiver with chill and pain. Her hand stroked through my hair in a soothing rhythm.

"There's blood everywhere," I closed my eyes but the images remained, "it's all over my hands. I failed them…I should have stayed…why did I not stay? I could have killed them, Leli, I could have saved them…_why_ did I _leave_?"

She pressed her lips to my forehead and the motion of her hand through my hair and down my back caused the violent shudders racking me to fade into subtle tremors.

"Because someone had to save the rest of us." she whispered the harsh, uncomforting truth.

I felt physically ill as she laid bare the cruelty of fate with those few words. I had slain the Archdemon. I had saved Ferelden and Thedas. Had I not escaped with Duncan; had I not fled the battleground of my home, I would most certainly have died. But the blood of my loved ones was the cost…too high a price to pay. Too heavy a burden to carry.

"It _hurts_." I allowed myself to be weak, to feel every bladed emotion that ripped across my soul. "I had to come back, but Maker's blood, it _fucking __**hurts**_."

"I know, my love." she whispered, and I knew that she did, in truth, understand.

"Leli…"

"Shhh." she placed a gentle finger across my lips. "You do not have to be the fearless warden; you need not project the face of Ferelden's hero. Be Salem, and be human. Cry your tears, express your anguish. Let me care for you."

Mute, I nodded. She gently worked my shirt off of my body and frowned.

"Your skin is ice." she ran her blessedly warm hands up and down my arms. "I do believe we should take advantage of that hot bath. You did promise me, you know."

I coughed out a laugh and Leliana wrapped her arm around my waist. I hissed as her touch against my scars sent shockwaves of pain through me.

"I'm sorry." she whispered as she helped me to my feet, compensating for my weak right leg as she led me into the washroom.

Gentle, mindful of my scars, she divested me of the rest of my clothing and hastily undressed herself. With great care, she guided me into the steaming water and though my skin began to warm, I still felt a cavern of ice deep within my spirit.

Leliana said nothing, simply holding me as my shivering eased. I laid my head against her shoulder and wept, naked, vulnerable, and, at last, human.


	46. Chapter 46

**Leliana**

I sat on the edge of the bed, idly stroking my fingers through Salem's hair. She slept fitfully, muttering strings of incoherent sentences, jerking every now and again as though she had been struck. Even though I knew she was awash in nightmares, I did not have the heart to wake her.

_Some demons cannot be fought in the waking world and the more they are suppressed, the stronger they become. I should know. I have lived through this…I have lived through this and I had no one to turn to. I will not let that happen to her. _

Salem began shivering and I rose, yawning, desperate for sleep though I did not dare give into it. There were few things more terrible than waking from nightmares alone.

_She would not wake me, no matter what horror she emerged from. I have seen it too many times during our journeys together. So many nights she would take an extra watch, knowing the weariness that weighed of all of us. And though she did not speak of it, I knew of the constant headaches; I saw the dark circles beneath her eyes threatening to swallow her whole. _

I added more wood to the fire and returned to my vigil, tucking the covers tighter around her body, desiring to share my heat with her, but unwilling to do so. The moment I lay down, I would succumb to slumber.

A soft knock came at the door and I walked to it, easing it open. Nan stood there with a tray that held two steaming bowls of stew, hunks of bread and a cheese. My mouth watered at the smell of it, and my stomach growled as it remembered what hunger was.

"Please, come in." I spoke in a whisper, inclining my head towards the bed, signaling that Salem slept.

Nan nodded and entered with steps as silent as a cat's. She walked to the far corner of the room and set the tray down on the table. I accompanied her, yawning yet again.

Nan appraised the room, setting her hands on her hips, frowning as she saw Salem stir restlessly beneath the sheets.

"Is she well?" the servant turned to me, the deep lines in her skin softened with worry, with compassion…true caring.

I felt compelled to honesty by the woman's sharp eyes, and I sighed. "Returning here has been…hard on her. She feels responsible for her mother and father's death and what you all had to endure after Howe's treachery."

Nan shook her head and chuckled softly. "That blighted girl." I watched in shock as the elderly servant wiped a stray tear from her eye. "She goes out and saves the damn world and it still is not enough. Oh, she is made in Bryce's image, that one. Always willing to see the good in people, go out of her way for them, and expect nothing in return. Too hard on herself though." Nan frowned. "Always was. Never willing to let a simple triumph be enough; had to go and find _one_ flaw and focus entirely on it until she worked out how to fix it. You cannot fix time, though…can't change the past. Poor girl."

Uncaring if I appeared rude, I began to eat as I mulled over Nan's words, finding them regrettably true.

"I've never met anyone like her." I admitted as Nan pulled out another chair from the table and sat down. "She speaks so highly of all of you…and I can see where she learned her kindness."

Nan placed her hand over her mouth and laughed quietly, so as not to disturb my warden. "Oh, you are sweet _and _deluded." she smiled. "I'm a terror. I run my kitchens and this house with an iron fist, and well everyone knows it. Never fooled her though." Nan smiled at fond memories. "The little hoyden would run amuck in my kitchens and the instant I took to scolding her she'd smile like a saint, wrap her arms around my legs, and tell me she knew I wasn't _truly_ angry. And after that who _could_ be? Ah well." Nan's eyes misted over again as they withdrew from the past. "She grew up too soon. Bryce's constant joy and Eleanor's constant trial."

I smiled, imagining Salem as a child, always grinning, blue eyes alight with mischief. I wondered just how many new things I would learn about my warden…but I knew no matter what I discovered, I could only love her all the more for it.

"I grew up amongst Orlesian nobility." I shared a snippet of my own past. "And I have never met one of them to match Salem. The things I saw her do, Nan," _slaying a dragon blind, forgiving an assassin, fighting for those she had never met as though they were her dearest friends…submitting to torture so that I would be spared,_ "they are beyond the realm of human comprehension. And nothing any noble I have ever known would do…_could_ do."

Another soft laugh for that. "I knew she was destined for greatness. A Grey Warden, though. You'll forgive my morbid take on things if I say I'm grateful Eleanor Cousland isn't alive to witness that tragedy."

A sudden, surprising wave of grief washed through me at the woman's blunt words. "So…you know then?" I asked. "The warden's fate?"

"I'm old, child, not mindless." she replied, though not harsh. "I've heard things about the Grey. And you've just confirmed them." She scrutinized me then, the exhaustion evident on my face, the beginnings of tears in my eyes. "You love her. Don't you?"

She was so serious, staring through my eyes and into my soul, demanding nothing less than absolute truth. "With every fiber of my being." I swore.

"Then you take care of my girl." she sniffed, patting the table twice with her palm as though it were a judge's gavel, and this a solemn order. "Understand?"

"I do." I nodded.

"Good." she rose from her chair and busied herself with the tray. "That starts with taking care of yourself. _You need __**sleep**_."

"I can't, I…" a yawn broke the sentence and I cursed under my breath.

"Pfffft." Nan shook her head. "Salem is stubborn as the day is long and I refuse to have two such beings under my roof. Off to bed with you."

"Yes, Nan." I smiled at the woman who reminded me so much of Wynne.

_It is little wonder that Salem accepted the mage so easily. _

"That's more like it." she smiled and slipped from the room as silently as she had entered.

I eased out of the chair and stretched my aching muscles, wearied by days of riding and sleeping on the ground. I walked to the bed and slipped under the covers, wrapping my arm around Salem's waist. Her slight shivering immediately ceased and my heart warmed, grateful that I could bring her even a little of the comfort she had given me.

"I love you, Salem." I whispered in her ear. "It will be easier in the morning. I promise."


	47. Chapter 47

**Salem**

I opened my eyes as light peered in the window. My hands scattered about, searching for my swords. Instead, they felt the soft down of mattress, the silk-smooth of sheets, the warmth of walls and a hot fire.

I sat up, weak and quivering, as though I had just awakened from a fever. I pinched the bridge of my nose, waiting for the gentle, eternal throb of pain between my temples. It did not come. Amazed, in awe, I savored the moment free from the headache that had plagued me since waking in Flemeth's hut after the battle at Ostagar.

I lay back against the pillows with a smile on my face. It darkened as the memories of the terror I had woken from washed over me yet again.

_So this is my reward_, I pinched my eyes shut and laughed at the butchery of the world. _The physical pain has ended but the emotional torture has yet to begin. I can scarcely imagine how it will weigh on me when I see the future that my choices built. It was not enough to be the warden; to end the Blight. For the briefest of moments, I stood before the courts of all races in Ferelden…and I was their queen. _

_I, who saved Ferelden, may also become her undoing…should the years be unkind. _

A soft noise woke me from reverie and I smiled as I turned over, watching Leliana as she slept. Her lips were parted, the lines on her face smoothed with the innocence of slumber. Her red hair, normally all in place, impeccably styled, was tousled and in her face.

I tucked it behind her ear, resting my palm on her cheek, savoring the warmth of her skin. I leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against her lips, smiling as her arm lazily wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Good morning, my love." she spoke, her accent thick.

"I could very easily become accustomed to this as well." I told her, letting the joy of her presence, the peace I felt at her touch, wash away the fear and the guilt and the anger of last night.

It would not fade completely…such nightmares never did.

_ You said time_, I lay against Leliana, content to be comfortable, _a great deal of time would be required for healing. At __**last**__, I have that time…and you. _

"Are you all right?" Leliana moved away, moving her eyes to mine, her face a study in compassion and concern.

"No." I told her the truth. There was no more need to pretend with strength. I did not have to wear a mask, and for that I could never show enough gratitude. "But I will be. I swear it."

Leliana ran her fingertips along my arm, tracing the sworls of scarring embedded in them. "You continue to be so endlessly strong. Tell me all of your secrets, my warden. I want to know."

"I have one who does not fault me when I break apart in her arms." I traced the outline of her jaw. "She is beautiful, and so _unbelievably strong_ that I feel safe whenever I am near her. She can revive faith where it has been lost, instill hope when it has fled, and convince the hardest heart that love, does indeed, conquer all."

Leliana's wide blue eyes shot around the room and she whispered, close to my ear, conspiratorial, "Are we safe here? What will she do if she finds me in your bed?"

I threw the covers over our heads, savoring the charade as I covered her body with my own. "Curses!" I hissed, running my teeth across the shell of her ear, "I had not thought that far ahead. I tremble to imagine the scope of her fury…for _you_, dear heart, are much, _much_ more beautiful."

"Off of me this instant!" she shouted, throwing me off of her in a dexterous, artful move. The covers flew away and she glowered at me with laughing eyes. "I will not _countenance_ sharing a bed with a woman who would forsake one of such _laudable_ traits for such a fleeting thing as beauty."

"Then I am truly blessed," I reached for her hand and grasped it, "that she is away, and we will not be caught."

Leliana stared at me, shocked. "Wench!" she shouted at last, grasping a pillow and hitting me square across the face with it.

I fell off balance and off of the bed, onto the stone floor, laughing hysterically as I collided with Leliana's satchel, spilling its contents onto the ground.

"Salem!" Leliana leaned over the edge of the bed, eyes dancing with mirth, her hair a tangled mess. "Are you all right?"

I pushed myself against the wall and groaned over-dramatically. "I…_Maker's breath_…something's…broken."

"Salem." aggravation.

"Salem?" concern.

"_Salem?!_"

She flew to my side, turning my eyes to hers, worry evident on her face.

I grinned. "Yes?"

Her hand flashed out and slapped me across the face. "I am not amused! After everything we have been through and you do…_this_!?"

She turned away and occupied herself with repacking her belongings.

_Damn it_, I cursed myself, rubbing the sting from my cheek. _I have overplayed this. _

"Leliana," I reached for her, a knife piercing my heart as I saw tears on her face, "forgive me. I did not think; I would never intentionally cause you pain. I am just…so at ease. So in love with you. _So happy_."

She flung herself against me and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close to me, pressing my lips against her hair.

"Do not Ever." she warned. "Frighten. Me. Like. That. _Again_."

"I promise." I took an oath. "You are too good to me. So endlessly forgiving and kind. How do you do it?"

She looked up at me and smiled. "I had a sterling example, my love. I did not truly know what forgiveness _was_ until I met you. Oh, the Chantry has their definition, rote lines about disregarding vengeance and letting go of sorrows…all so clinical and painless. But you…"

"I still make grievous mistakes, dear heart." I pressed my forehead against hers, inhaling the moment.

"Nothing that a kiss cannot remedy." the playful light re-emerged in her eyes and she caught my lips with a delightful fervor.

I returned her kiss and felt as though all might truly be well, from now into the future. _This will last. Life will go on. I will be happy and my wounds will heal. Hers as well. Time will set all things right. _

Leliana pulled away and rose, lifting her satchel and heading towards the washroom. A piece of folded parchment fell from her satchel and I caught it.

"Dear heart," I extended it out to her, "this fell."

She turned to see what I held in my hand and the blood drained from her face. My heart began to beat faster as I saw the broken seal…the star of the Chantry pressed in wax.


	48. Chapter 48

**Leliana**

_Maker's __**blood-soaked**__ breath. Not this. Not now. Why? Why? We were happy…we were happy…we were…_

The air compressed around my throat. I could not speak; could not reach for the parchment that Salem held out in front of me, more threatening than if she had held a blade. She lowered her arm and took me in, my bloodless countenance, trembling hands, shallow breaths.

"I suppose there are still some secrets between us, then." she said, setting the letter aside on the table, her voice carefully controlled. "Find me when you are finished." she started for the door.

"Read it." I gasped out, past the tension threatening to choke me, past the fear in my heart.

_This was inevitable. Maker, how I wish it could have come from my mouth, gentled, followed by promises and reassurances…but I am not certain that I have such things to give her. _

"What?" she turned to me, flicking her eyes to the letter, asking for permission.

"Please…read it." I told her, unable to move, rooted to the ground where I stood.

Salem's scarred hand reached for the letter and she opened it. I watched her eyes as they scanned the words…watched as gates and bars slammed shut, as the loveliness of her open heart and healing soul vanished. When she raised her gaze to mine once more…Salem was no longer there. Warden Cousland stood before me, eyes screaming of death.

"A summons from the Divine herself?" she asked, terse. "And a royal pardon?"

I nodded, shivering at the cloak of gentility that masked the flames inside her words.

"When did you receive this?" she set the letter aside.

"In Redcliffe." I answered. "The night before we marched for Denerim. I wished to tell you, Salem, truly, I did, but the final battle was upon us and it never seemed the proper time…"

I did not understand the bitter smile that crossed Salem's features. I did not understand the harsh laughter that brayed between her lips. My heart broke when her laughter turned to tears, from tears into shuddering, racking, silent sobs. She collapsed into a chair and heaved an aggrieved sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. I hated knowing her so well...knowing that the constant pain in her head had returned with vengeful fury...because of me.

I tensed, bracing my shoulders for the wrath soon to come; the anger that I had kept this important, this dark, this potentially earth-shattering secret from her.

"I should have died." Salem spoke, and the concrete belief in her voice chilled me to the bone.

"Salem, do not say such things." I entreated, frightened, frightened that she had hidden away her heart, concealed it behind a stronger fortress than the one that had existed when first we met.

"Why?" she asked. "It is the truth, is it not? Four Blights have come upon the world, and four wardens died to end them. This time it was not so. And thus it is not as it should be."

_Why does she say such things? She fought so __**hard**__ to live. Wynne told me that no one, warden, mage, elf, dwarf…no living creature should have been able to survive the wounds the Archdemon dealt. Especially not one as resistant to healing magic as Salem. _

"Salem…"

"No!" she shouted, rising from the chair with such force that it flew against the wall and splintered. "_This_," she lifted the letter and clenched it in her fist, "_this _is all the proof I need. Destinies were set! Futures were put in place! And I…I've ruined it all…I should have died."

"_Still your tongue_!" I ordered, not wanting to hear those four words from between her lips ever again. "_What are you saying!?_"

"The truth!" she roared, flinging the letter to the floor. "Every one of us, _every blighted __**one**_, had something to return to! Somewhere to call home after the world ended! Everyone…" her voice softened, but she did not calm, "…but you. And I wanted you to have that…I wanted you to have that with me, and so I fought, and I compromised my soul, and I _defied death and the gods only to find __**that the Maker himself **_wants you for his own!"

I was shaking fiercely now, as though my soul were wrapped in winter, as though I had swallowed glass and it was splintering and shredding through my veins.

"I did not know." my voice trembled, weak, like a child's. "Salem, I did not know. I thought…you thought…we all knew you were going to die…telling you then would have only caused more needless pain!"

"Telling me _then _would have alleviated my _**last**_ fear! I have no place in this world!" Salem threw up her hands, an expression on her face that I had never before seen. Defeat. "I have felt this…this _wrongness_ in my existence since first I woke. It is only when I am with you that it vanishes. I see why now. I do not belong here. Not anymore. You have a greater calling; a mantle you were meant to take up after my death...a destiny too painful for me to bear while I am alive."

"Salem, please." I begged.

_Not this. Not again. Why? Why can you never fault me? Why can you not rail against me in anger? This…all of this is my fault. You lived for me…for a future that you did not know I could not give you. I am a lie…a lie that brought you back from death. _

"Please what, Leliana?" she asked, sounding desperate. "Make it stop hurting? Make sense of the world? I cannot. I am awash in grief and surrounded by confusion and the only voice in my thoughts right now is screaming one vicious, scathing truth. I. _Should._ _**Be. DEAD!**_"

"_Stop saying that!_" I shrieked, shoving her against the wall and pinning her there with my trembling hands. "_Maker's __**fucking**__ breath, Salem! I __**love**__ you! _I…" my voice cracked and I collapsed against her, sobbing, "…love you."

She pushed me off of her and sat down, burying her head in her hands as I leaned against the cold, unfeeling wall for support.

"It is never enough, is it?" she asked, but her inquiry was not for my ears. She spoke to something far greater, crueler, and more vast than our comprehension.

She spoke to the hand that wrote Destiny, that spun the world in its unforgiving cycles. She spoke to the god that had failed us both…the god that had called me and given me a vision; the god that had condemned her to die.

"I gave you everything." she continued in a heartbreaking prayer. "I gave you my family, and my blood, and I soaked the earth in violence to save the world you had forsaken! And my reward was meant to be death? Then why did you let me walk out of heaven…you let me believe I had a future to return to…that you forgave me…that I could _live._"

She rose from the floor, weary, limping, in obvious physical and emotional torment. She pulled me against her in a fierce embrace and my heart gave out as I realized what she was doing.

_Holding me close…as she holds close all things she knows she will lose. Because Salem Cousland knows only one thing. How to love. _

"We have seven days before the month is out." she whispered against my hair. "I will go with you to the coast and you can take a ship to Val Royeaux…if we ride hard, we should reach a port city in three days." She tilted my head back and placed her lips against my forehead. They were trembling. "I will tell the groom to prepare our horses."

_I do not want this_, I searched her eyes, looking for anger, for wrath, for the rebellion against fate that had caused her to cling to life. It was not there. Her faith, her hope, had deserted her. And it broke me.

_I __**never**__ wanted this_, my thoughts hissed. _From the moment I knew you were alive, I wanted nothing more than a life with you. Damn fate. Damn the Chantry. __**Damn the Maker himself**_.

"No." I stated, strong, emphatic. "No."

I pulled out of her embrace and scooped the letter from the floor, glaring at it in disgust.

"Leliana, what are you doing?" Salem turned to me.

"That which you taught me." I tossed the letter into the fire, watching with great satisfaction as it burned to a crisp. "That which your strength, and your love, and your _life _have given me the ability to do."_  
_

I turned to Salem, triumphant. "I am defying a god."


	49. Chapter 49

**Salem**

_Why did she do that? Does she not know the cost!? How could she not? She has seen me, torn and battered and bleeding, all for the sake of defying a mad god. While silent, the Maker is not…unkind. Leliana...**why **would you put yourself in danger?_

I watched the letter burn, aghast, upset…and yet relieved. Relieved that she had chosen me, relieved that my life did indeed still have some purpose. I had not lied. I had felt a void in my soul; a nagging voice ever present with the constant headaches, an insidious whisper…_something so damaged does not belong in a world made whole. You have nothing more to give._

"Leliana," I whispered, eyes fixed on charred parchment that not moments ago had threatened to strip away my reason for existence, "do you realize what you have done?"

"Yes." she nodded her head, a cold blue steel in her eyes, a light in them that I had never seen. "You love me, Salem." she walked to me and took my hands in her own, staring up into my eyes, begging me to drop the fortress I had erected around my heart when I read those bitter, bitter words.

"But this…"

She pressed a finger to my lips. "You _love_ me." she smiled and tears welled in her eyes. "You have been tortured for me, you have died for me and…you walked out of heaven…_for me_." wonder colored her voice and she gazed at me, mystified. "The Divine is but a woman who believes she speaks for the Maker. She recites the words of the Chant of Light and bestows blessings on the people, trying to bolster a fading, fragile faith in a mercilessly silent god. She wraps the mages in chains and disregards the treatment of the elves and…and that is _not_, in any manner of perception, divine."

I stood there, completely bewildered. The Leliana I had met in Lothering, the woman who had first ensnared my heart, had spoken of the Chantry and the Maker with complete, unshakeable faith. She had vilified Morrigan for her apostasy, praised Alistair for his templar roots…and at some point, some point that had slipped past my noticing…that had changed. _She_ had changed.

_But…why? How? Her faith was so absolute, so impervious. What changed, dear heart?_

She moved her hands to my hips and gazed at me, reading my thoughts as only she could.

"I knew every tale and story." she told me. "I lived by the gospel Andraste preached; I reviled that which she reviled, loved that which she loved…and then I saw you. You were not strong," she spoke the truth as she had seen it, and I did not challenge her. I could not. "You were broken inside…something snapped and mutilated beyond repair…a shattered soul. But I saw in you something I thought lost to the world, something that not even Andraste could comprehend."

"What…" I trembled, not knowing what she would reveal, "…what did you see?"

"Love." she answered, a light in her eyes that transcended the sun. "Andraste marched on the Tevinter Imperium full of righteous fury, bristling with anger and fury at the injustices that magic had wrought upon her world. Innocents perish in wars, Salem…and the Exalted March left many slaughtered in its wake. The Maker may have taken her for his bride, but Andraste had no concept of that which defines _**you**_. She died because she devoted herself to a cause of wrath, and a man who could not bear that her love for him had departed betrayed her and had her burned. I believe now, Salem, I believe that had the Maker's bride loved her Maker as much as he loved her…she would have survived. The flames would not have touched her skin. She would have been a messiah, not a martyr."

"When did you become so blasphemous?" I asked, smiling, running my fingers through a lock of her hair.

"When I met a woman who could do nothing but love." she walked into my arms and laid her head against my chest, sighing with contentment. "I have seen you angered; I have seen you wrathful; I have seen you hurt and suffering and given over to depraved revenge. And each time you calmed, you walked away, you did not completely surrender. Because you love…you break every chain you are able to, and when you cannot break them, you wear them in the place of those to whom they once belonged."

"You are describing someone who is perfect." I shook my head, though tears of my own stained my cheeks. "I could never hope to achieve that definition."

"In my eyes," she held me tighter, "you are all of that, and more." She leaned back and forced my eyes to hers, wanting me to see the absolute, unblemished honesty in them. "The Divine would have all the world believe that the Maker is silent; that he has abandoned this world until our faith bids him return. But that, as are so many things the Chantry spouts, is a lie."

"You cannot know that." I said, frightened of her belief in me…terrified at the enormity of her love. And yet…peace filled my heart. I was not afraid.

"I can and I do. The Maker is not silent, Salem." her eyes grew hopeful and her face shone with a golden, radiant light. "He spoke to me…sent me a vision…sent me to you. So that I might know he is still alive…that his will, his _true_ will lives in actions such as yours, in hearts such as yours. You told me once, after you had reached the Urn of Sacred Ashes, that you had touched the face of god."

"I did." I remembered that moment, fraught with emotion, turmoil, and unspeakable pain.

"Well," she gave me a sly smile, "not to cheapen your experience, but mine has been much more profound. I have walked hand in hand, slept alongside, fought alongside, shed tears with, kissed, and made love to someone who is truly divine."

I laughed at that, though I did not doubt she believed every word she spoke. And I loved her for it. Though I could not accept her definition for myself, though I would never see the reflection in the mirror she held before me, I would not attempt to dissuade her beliefs. Her faith made her beautiful; made her impossibly strong. Her faith had ended the Fifth Blight and brought me back from death.

"Why do you laugh?" she asked, her eyebrow raised askance.

"I am simply picturing a god with tainted blood." I answered, wrapping my arms about her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips as I lifted her from the ground and twirled her around.

I settled her back to the floor and buried my face against her neck. "Thank you." I breathed a prayer of gratitude to my own living, breathing goddess. "Thank you for loving me…for choosing me…for _wanting_ me."

She stepped back and the tears were gone from both of our eyes, replaced by light, by hope. I knew, in the back of my mind, that the Chantry did not let go of what it claimed for its own. Leliana knew this as well. But we had until then…and both of us knew better than to snatch tomorrow's troubles and drag them into the present. Such things would keep. Such things could wait.

_There will be __**time**__._

"I want but one thing more." Leliana guided me to a chair, set me down, kneeled before me and looked at me with longing eyes.

"Name it." I cupped her cheek with my palm, not minding, for the first time, the scars that marred my hand.

"I want to be wedded as soon as possible." she reached up and took my hands. "And for sake of my urgency I am willing to make a great deal of concessions, save one."

"Very well."

"I simply _must_ have the proper _shoes_."

I replied with the only words I could "As you say, dear heart."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** _Thank you all for joining me on this journey. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope that those who read enjoyed it as much as I. I would like to thank all of you who favorited, followed, and reviewed this tale. Your encouragement has meant so much to me, and helped me gain strength as an author. A special thanks to Hotcutii3, Ellwyndara, Violent-Flames, and artsytechy for all of your kindness.

I am considering a continuation of this story, as there are journeys I would like to send these characters on, but I don't wish to bore my audience. So please, leave a review or drop me a private message if you would like to see more of this pairing and this style.

Bright Blessings, dear readers,

~Raven Sinead


End file.
